Shattering Perfection
by Kit Chan76
Summary: Heavily Updated. An unknown past and a daunting future collide in an epic battle to save Hyrule and return it to its former glory.
1. Beginnings

I think it's been some odd two or three years since I worked on this last, but I decided that it deserved to be finished. I'm starting some extremely heavy revision on these first few chapters and will continue on with new content as time allows. Thanks for reading!

1

Link stood outside of a single ring of white light in an abyss of pitch black night with Navi, his trusted fairy companion, hidden behind his ear. A darksilhouette appeared then, a figure with a build much the same as his own save for deep and unfaltering cobalt eyes. The hero had never discerned the identity of the strange being.

"You come at me night after night," Link said, voice low and menacing. "Yet I do not understand your motives. Why do you haunt me so?"

"You are falling" the figure replied evenly. "Even now you fall to evil, yet you fail to understand your fate."

Link balked at the notion, drew his sword and shield, and assumed a defensive posture. "My fate is to lead the Hylian forces in destroying the fell humans who have invaded our country and threatened our king."

"As any solider might say, so long as they did not understand the cause behind their actions. I do not wish to fight you, Link of the House of Red Lions."

The hero was taken by the reference. In past dreams the silhouette had not called him by his full name, a fact hat piqued his curiosity. Stranger still that the figure had referred to Link by his premarital house rather than his higher ranked title. Since his marriage he had been adopted into the House of Royals, the house of Hyrule's monarchy.

"The more you fight and kill them the more akin to them you will become," the silhouette continued. "You do not realize that the more you slay the deeper your hatred and rage will fill you. It will continue to overwhelm you until finally--"

"Enough!" Link roared. He charged blindly into the pillar of light, heavy broadsword leading with a diagonal slash that met only thin air as he stumbled out the other side.

When the Hylian spun to face the figure again he found that the pillar had disappeared, had been replaced some distance away with a spot of red light in which stood a new figure, heavily robed and heavily armed. He was broad and talland strong enough to dispatch even the most well trained soldier with a single blow.

"Do you not believe the child's warning? Or perhaps it is that you are in denial!" The new man's voice boomed throughout the void, loud and commanding as the crack of thunder. "To the future king of Hyrule I make an offer, an offer to end all of this madness and bloodshed. Join my side and I will cause your kingdom no more pain."

There came no response.

"It is my final offer, boy. You and your kin will fall to darkness regardless of your choice. Your fate is sealed! At least my way you might have anything your heart desires—peace for your family, for your children perhaps?"

"Never!"

The figure chuckled maliciously and faded from the light. "Then accept your demise."

* * *

The hero woke with a start, no longer in the black void of dreams but instead tucked tightly in his bed, his wife at his side. He grimaced as another shot of pain seared through his shoulder and racked his body.

"You had another nightmare," the princess said as soon as Link had recovered. "Perhaps you should tell me--"

"Nothing to worry about," Link replied as he sat up and brushed the hair from his eyes.

Zelda stood, smoothed her dress, and walked to the window to retrieve a washcloth and water basin that she had placed there earlier. She returned to the bed and smiled as she dipped the cloth into the water. "Your wound is healing well. I believe you'll be able to fight again soon."

"Were there any attacks while I slept?"

Zelda considered the question as she pulled the bedclothes down to Link's waist, revealing the blood soaked bandages that wrapped his torso from his navel up and around his left shoulder. She began to unravel the bandages slowly and carefully, revealing the gruesome knife wound that marred the fair skin of Link's left breast.

"Unfortunate that there was," she said and placed the cloth gently over the wound. "Though it was only a small band of men, they were dispatched easily enough. I fear that another attack is imminent given the failure of the last few attempts. I am afraid that this time may prove disastrous."

"I'll be there to fight. I have a duty to lead your father's army."

"You have a duty to rest," the princess replied sternly. "My father will be angry if his heir is killed in battle due to his unnecessary haste and I will be angrier still if I am forced to rear a child with no father. You will not fight until I deem you ready."

Link took pause and stared at his wife. Truly she was with child, though not far along, and truer still did Link believe her threats. But he did have a duty to protect his kingdom and king.

"I am ready," he said. "I need no more rest, by tonight I will be feeling strong enough with thanks to yourself and Impa's healing."

"Then what was that wince when you woke?"

Again, Link was silenced by the question. He looked proudly away from his unrelenting wife and out the open window. "It was nothing."

* * *

Kimmendell stared down upon his army of evil humans and grinned maliciously, his thoughts focused on the siege on Hyrule Castle that would begin in mere hours. The poor and unsuspecting king would have his throne robbed mercilessly away and Kimmendell would rule Hyrule as his master's mouthpiece, the land which had exiled them both would bow at his feet.

"Subjects!" the man roared and a hush fell over the crowd. "The time has come, this world shall be ours!"

Thousands of cheers erupted from the massive human force, evil laughter echoed off ofthe walls of their desert palace home. Kimmendell held up a back gloved hand to silence the men.

"Take up your arms and march on the castle. Fight the Hylians whom you so loathe! Kill them and their pitiful king, take only prisoners who will be of use! Now march! Your glory awaits!"

* * *

"Impa?"

Link stepped into the caretaker's quarters and sighed, relieved to find the elder sitting at her desk always at work. She looked to him with a welcoming smile and was more than a little pleased to see the prince up and about. It seemed to her as though things were finally returning to normal in the palace.

"Is something troubling you?" Impa asked. She watched intently as the prince moved into the doorway, his motion sluggish and tired. It was true that Link had been injured badly recently but Impa had not realized the wound's full impact.

Link appeared in a way that Impa had never seen before. His skin was dull, dry, clammy, and glistened with a perpetual cold sweat. Every crease and scar and vein showed through the paleness. His eyes, always bright and alert, were dull and sunken and listless. There was no spring in his typically sure step and his posture suffered of a terrible slump. But the most noticeable difference was his voice. It was not the commanding tenor that barked orders at hundreds of the kingdom's finest troops; it was not the voice of compassion and empathy and kindness. The certainty was gone, replaced by the shaky voice of an unsure young man at the last of his wits and the end of hope.

"I hate to burden you," Link said. "But I need some information."

Impa furrowed her brow in confusion and concern. Link did not often seek her for answers, he was more than able to search the old tomes of history and lore that were housed in the castle's expansive library. So why would one so capable be reaching out to her? Pleading to her?

"Come here, boy," she said. "Come and sit down. Tell me what it is that troubles you so."

Link did not move toward the offered seat but instead shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned his back against the cold stone wall. "You know of our people's legends," he said at length.

"Only those of great importance to the kingdom and its people."

The young elf took a deep, steadying breath and cast his eyes to the floor, searching the carpet's intricate designs for some sort of answer, some sort of comfort. He did not know why he had come to Impa to ask his question, did not understand his timing nor his motive. All he knew was that his dreams had unnerved him of late and that he was confused and running low on courage--and how could one hope to properly command an army in such a wretched state?

"Tell me about--" his voice broke and he choked on the words. He was overcome with a wave of utter embarrassment, never had he been unable to articulate his thoughts for fear of emotion. The force of that emotion had been so strong, so sudden, that Link found himself swooning from his defensive posture and had to brace himself against the wall with one hand. He cleared his throat and began again. "I need to know about my family. About my parents, any siblings."

Impa was startled for the question as much as the wave of uncharacteristic emotion that had accompanied it. "Why do you come to me with this? Why now?"

"My dreams of late have been filled with evil figures. They appear in my likeness. They warn me against fighting. I cannot lead my battles properly with such doubt clouding my thoughts."

The nurse regarded Link's words carefully. Perhaps it was that Link believed his deceased kin were trying to caution him. "Your father died a valiant death," she said. "The night that the Hylian wars ended. He captured the enemy leader, an evil wizard named Marik, and exiled him to the farthest reaches of the world. He sacrificed himself and used his very lifeblood to bind the wizard to the demonic astral plane, trapped forever."

Link furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. The pieces did not fit. The first figure of his dream was young, no more than twenty years and far too young to have been his father. The second figure was no Hylian at all. The second figure had been a human of sizeable stature.

"What did Marik look like?"

"The wizard had many forms, child," Impa replied. She watched as the hero slumped weakly to the floor, pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his hands. The woman stood then, satisfied that Link's emotion had played itself out. She kneeled before him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You are not well. You can not fight if battle comes tonight."

Link looked up at her then, fires burning in his eyes. Perhaps he was sick, he would concede that point readily enough, and he agreed that he was weak from his wound. But despite the concessions he would not give in, he would fight regardless of the many warnings against him. He grew angry then as he considered the woman. Who did she believe she was to be telling him whether or not he could participate in the fighting? It was his place of honor, his place of glory, and he meant to take part.

He stared long and hard at the nurse in front of him, rage welling within him until finally he could contain no more of it. Pressure built in his head and his vision began to blur at its periphery. He knew that Impa had begun to speak softly, comfortingly, but his hearing was dulled in such a way that he could scarcely make out the words.

"You must calm yourself!" the nurse pleaded. "Do not let your anger consume you."

The young elf exploded into motion and jumped to his feet with such force that he knocked Impa back unceremoniously to the ground. He yelled at her, his voice sounding to him as a muffled and primal scream. He demanded that she leave him alone, that she retract her warning about the fight. He screamed that he was tired, that he was sick, that he was angry. He screamed that Impa should act less as a mother and more as the nurse and attendant that she was. He screamed so forcefully that his voice cracked.

He never noticed that his wife and a small contingent of guards had bolted into the room.

"Enough!"

Link stopped his tirade immediately, his mind returning to reality as quickly as it had blacked out. He first realized that Zelda was before him, clutching Impa's shoulders in a tight embrace and wiping the blood from her nose and mouth. He then realized that he was restrained on either side by two soldiers, both of whom were substantially larger than him, though he could not recall when they had seized him nor when the pain had returned to his breast.

"What in the nine hells is the matter with you?" Zelda demanded. "How could you lash out in such a way to your own attendant? What if her and my position had been reversed? What then, Link?"

Link barely heard the scolding as his hearing faded again. He stared at his wife, silencing her with a desperate and pleading expression of a kind she had never seen. She spoke then, but he could not hear her, she rose but he could not see through the white spots that blurred his eyes. His blood pressure had fallen and fallen fastand adrenaline was the only thing sustaining his consciousness. His anger was spent and his instinct had taken over with full force. It told him to run, to break from the guards and flee from both his embarrassment and his guilt as much as the damning gazes that were locked on him.

He pulled away weakly, the guards tightened their grip on his arms, and he fell. Exhausted and helpless, he slumped against the guards and was overwhelmed by darkness.

* * *

Zelda sat vigilantly at her husband's bedside and watched the rhythmic and steady rise and fall of his breast, silently praying that he would be more himself the next time he woke. He woke once since the incident in Impa's quarters and he had been overcome with guilt, pleading for forgiveness. He told her that he could not remember what he said, what he did, or what set him off to begin with. He only knew that he was ashamed and embarrassed and guilty.

There came a knock on the door as a male servant entered. His name was Loir, Link's closest personal attendant and a strong member of the first battle group, the group in which Link fought. Loir had been injured in the same battle as his lord though to a much lesser degree, and had proven himself beyond expectations when he returned his unconscious commander to the castle's infirmary. Zelda smiled at his approach, released her grip on Link's hands, and turned to face him.

"Loir, it is good to see you about. Certainly Link has missed your companionship of late."

Loir bowed so low that his hand swept the floor. He accepted the compliment humbly, as always, and carried on his charge. "Your highness, I've come to relieve you of your watch. Lady Impa wishes to speak with you in the courtyard regarding the events of this morning."

Zelda could not protest the soldier's request though she did sincerely doubt that the petite elf would be able to restrain her husband in the event that he enraged again. She began to protest but her concerns were dismissed with a wave and a smile, and before she knew what had happened she had been escorted from the room.

A short while later the princess arrived in the castle gardens where Impa sat waiting at a small white table. Zelda sat down to a warm cup of tea and a long, uncomfortable silence.

"You need not be embarrassed or ashamed for the actions of your husband. You cannot rightfully harbor guilt for things which you cannot control."

Zelda nodded her reply and looked from her teacup to Impa's wounded face, bruised and swollen. She could not help but feel somehow responsible. "Link has not been himself for quite some time. His dreams have been plagued with demons and warnings and his consciousness is overcome with stress for the war, for myself, and for his child."

Impa smiled at the reference. "And how is the child?"

"Strong and restless."

The two women shared a tentative laugh, the guilt and stress momentarily lifted from the conversation. But the pall returned shortly thereafter as Impa began a more serious line of questioning.

"Tell me about his dreams."

Zelda blew a deep sigh. So much had transpired over the last weeks that she feared she would not be able to recall the intricacies. "Darkness," she said. "They are filled with dark tidings. Weeks ago he saw our child, he said it was a boy. The child was troubled, haunted. Days after that he woke from a dream of a demon, threatening the kingdom and his family," There came a long and uncomfortable pause as Zelda searched her memory for more detailed descriptions of the premonitions.

"And since then?" Impa said.

"Since then he has had the same recurring dream almost every night. A figure warns him to suppress his desire to fight and a second figure begs him to fight, to give in to a primal nature. It is as though his conscience is trying to speak to him. He told me that he thought that the cautionary figure was his father, but more often lately he has stopped believing that possibility."

Impa sighed and leaned forward in her chair. "It would not be the first time that a father has been forewarned of danger by an unborn child. Legend says that your husband's father was led to his own fate through the guidance of figures in his dreams. His dreams warned him of danger and despair if he did not end the threat."

"What are you saying?" Zelda replied, her voice low. Truly she was confused and more troubled than curious.

"You must keep him away from any battle," Impa said. "Link blacked out during his tirade, when he struck me, he screamed at me in the ancient language of Hyrule. He screamed that his son was endangered, that he had to fight to protect his family and his honor and his kingdom. He told me that if he did not fight there would be death and decay. But I believe that he has misunderstood the warnings of his dreams. He must not go into battle, he must remain with you, well protected inside of the castle. If he is lost then so, too, is Hyrule."


	2. Assault on the Castle

Once again, hello! So, Apparently, if you're still reading this, you like it. Plot bunnies 3 reviews, de gozaru. ^_^. So, enjoy the fic, see disclaimer on chapter 1...SDA.  
  
Chapter Two: Assault on the Castle  
  
  
  
"Your highness," Link began as he knelt in front of the crown, "I have heard word that an attack is imminent on the castle."  
  
"My son, I have something to tell you," he said, walking toward one of the large windows that opened into the yard. "I have troubling news for you."  
  
"He has escaped, hasn't he?"   
  
The King shook and placed his hands on the light gray stone, peering out into the courtyard. "I know that he cannot escape. I know that Impa told you your father's story... But there is more that she left untold."  
  
"Yessir..." Link looked down, half of him not wanting to hear the story. But he knew that it was important, and that he must know. "Go on, if you please."  
  
"The only way that Marik could be sealed in the crystal was for your father to give his energy to it. The goddesses took his blood and forged the seal that would forever hold the dark prince, Marik, in his tomb. But his army has risen under new control. It is not Marik that you will confront, for now. The attack that you spoke of will come soon. But, Link... I beg you–stay clear of the enemy, for your own good as well as the good of Hyrule. You must not be taken into their hands. Now go, mobilize the guard. As my heir and commander of the Hylian Armed Forces, lead my people to victory."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
With a short bow, the Hero of Time excused himself from the King's quarters and into the courtyard where he stood for a moment, reflecting on the King's words, but didn't have much time before he was interrupted by one of the soldiers. Link turned when he heard the door close, and faced the younger boy with a concerned expression.  
  
"Loir? What's the matter…?"  
  
"They are coming. I saw them. It'll be a large battle I'm sure of it."  
  
Link furrowed his brow and shook his head, concern gracing his young features. "Then follow me, tell me all you know," he ordered as he started from the courtyard, back into the castle. Loir followed closely behind, beginning to explain what he knew about the upcoming attack.  
  
"There are a large number, at least a thousand, maybe one and a half. Some were mounted—"  
  
"Horses?"  
  
Loir shook his head, "No, sir. They appeared to be demons."  
  
"And what of their weaponry?" Link pushed open one of the doors, stepping into his quarters. He motioned for Loir to sit, while he walked to his small wardrobe, opening the oaken doors. Inside was a tunic of linked mail, the highest quality in the entire kingdom, his sword and shield, and his bow.  
  
Loir was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure. Our scouts didn't have a close enough look to see."  
  
Link pulled the mail over his head and took the sword, shield, and bow from the closet, placing the sword on his back, the shield on top of it. He turned and looked at Loir, absorbing the concerned expression that graced his fair face. "Is something the matter?"  
  
"I don't think you should fight, sir."  
  
"Are you and Zelda in on this together? Why don't you want me to fight?" he placed a hand on his hip in a gesture of irritation.  
  
"Your own well being, sir. If this battle is as large as I think it will be, the chances of you reopening that wound on your shoulder are going to be multiplied greatly. That is your dominant arm after all."  
  
"I'll use the other if you're so worried. This battle is not about my well being, but the well being of the country. I shall do anything and everything in my power, as limited or great as it may be, to protect my kingdom "  
  
Link walked from the room angrily, Loir following closely on his heels, and made his way down the hallway once again toward Zelda's quarters. He knocked on the door, opened it without receiving a response, and stepped inside.  
  
"Milady?" he inquired as he made his way to the center of the room. "Are you decent?"  
  
"Link?" the princess poked her head out from her restroom door. "What are you doing in here?"  
  
"I've come to inform you—I'm taking the troops to battle."  
  
She stepped out into her bedroom, clutching her bodice to her chest. She was taken back by Link's expression, and smiled. She couldn't remember a time that his emotions had changed so dramatically. Or so quickly for that matter. "Are you embarrassed?"  
  
"You—aren't decent…" he stammered in reply, a deep blush overcoming his anger. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, closing them for a moment, "I just thought you'd like to know."  
  
"Are you taking Navi?"  
  
"Yes, milady."  
  
Zelda nodded, approached Link and planted a tender kiss on his cheek. Then she spoke quietly, "Be careful, and come back in good health."  
  
"As sure as Din's Jewel rises tomorrow, I shall return to you."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Rain had begun to pour, it ran through the stone in torrents, splashing against the Hylian Guards' feet and ankles. They stood at the ready, arrows aimed at the oncoming troops, who appeared on the horizon, mounted on demons, some carrying flags and huge weapons. They moved as a single unit, countless numbers of them, pouring over the hills toward the castle, while the all-too-young Hylian Army stood at the ready.   
  
Link's fairy fluttered at his side, lighting dimly the area around him, allowing him to see the faces of his army. Their expressions were set in stone, each fighting their inner demons, but at no other point would they be more ready to face the onslaught of an enemy army.  
  
"Men," Link began, pulling his bow from its place on his shoulder, "to the ready–"  
  
Ryans   
  
Link started, he heard the word far back in his mind, but it had never thrown itself at him in such a way. But he shook it away, knowing well that if he faltered now, the troops would not last the battle through. He had given the first warning. The battle would begin shortly, carnage would begin, and the fate of Hyrule would be finally determined.   
  
Link shuddered for a moment, but he couldn't tell if it was from the rain, or the incredible fear that he was the cause of this whole war. It was his father that imprisoned Marik in the first place–it was his bloodline that made the humans want such cruel revenge. He was, indirectly, the cause of this threat, and he was furthering it in his decision to fight farther–but now there was no backing down.  
  
"Take your aim "  
  
Reans taiu'su oerne   
  
His head ached with what he was beginning to think was anxiety, the nervousness of his men had begun to spread to him. Or maybe it was his thoughts–or the strange words that poured into his head each time he spoke.  
  
They were close now, so close that you could see each individual elf, each one's features began to stand out beside the others, the demons that they rode could be seen full well, and the largest of their weapons was unveiled. Link knew immediately that the fight would be almost superfluous.  
  
"Master Link–?"  
  
The young Hylian was pulled from his thoughts, and looked over at the knight at his side. It was Faern, one of the elder knights in the Hylian guard. He was peering down at Link with aged brown eyes, an expression of total concern overwhelming his features, as if awaiting some kind of command. But Link simply returned the gaze, locking the two in a contest of stares. Faern broke it abruptly and peered down through the rain at the onslaught of soldiers, swarming like a living wave over the hills.   
  
"Faern, is something the matter?" Link asked quietly, waiting for the oncoming ranks to come into range. He pulled his bow from its place on his back and nocked an arrow, taking aim. "You seem troubled."  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing, sir. Are you well?"  
  
"You needn't disquiet yourself with me," Link replied quietly.  
  
"You had best give your commands, my friend. Before it is too late."  
  
"I am waiting..." He paused for a moment, pulling the arrow back, "for the opportune moment..." He paused long enough to allow Navi enough time to slip into the small pouch at his side. "Fire "   
  
*Tirans!*  
  
He let his arrow fly, piercing one of the mounted warriors between the eyes and watched as three hundred and forty other arrows flew with blinding speed through the air, falling upon the enemy lines, some hitting their mark, some missing and lodging themselves in the ground. The savage mens' front lines fell in the hundreds, and the battle began.  
  
From the marketplace, the other three hundred and eighty seven knights poured, mounted on their horses, weapons drawn to fight. They spread among their enemy, avoiding the falling arrows and enemy swords. They cut down their foes unflinchingly, but Link could see clearly that they were no match. For every two enemy men cut down, four of his men were dead. He turned to Faern and stared for a moment, watching as his expert hands nocked arrow after arrow, sending them flying down into the swarm of troops below.  
  
"Faern?"  
  
"Master Link, be there a problem?"  
  
"Was Epona readied ere battle?"  
  
"Aye, sir," Faern looked down at Link with a half-curious expression. "You don't mean to tell me you're going down there. You'll be killed for certain."  
  
"I must help my men..."  
  
"You're helping well enough from up here "Link shook his head. "Take command for me while I am gone. I'll return." He bolted from the wall, but stopped when he reached the narrow stone stairwell that lead to the courtyard. At the bottom he could barely make out a shadow, ambling up through the darkness as if it'd been wounded. Fearing the worst, Link pelted down the stairs, grabbing whatever it was, and threw it with a strength he barely knew he possessed against the wooden door below. The figure broke through, sending the wood splintering into shards, and Link ran past it, staring down as he went. It was, in fact, one of the humans that now laid unconscious on the ground. But he would do nothing more with it, he would allow the knights above to take care of it as it came.  
  
Link plowed through the crowd of fighting elves and humans, broad sword drawn, and slashed at anything that moved wrongly, sending the savage humans to the ground without a second thought as he made his way toward the stables, where he hoped and prayed Epona would still be. But he didn't get far before he found himself surrounded.  
  
A circle of at least twenty enemy troops had encircled him, and were closing in quickly. He stared at them for a moment, and something in the back of his mind panicked. They were much more horrifying than he'd thought they would be, they appeared to be Hylians, but they'd been tainted in some way. They were huge things, broad shouldered with muscles the size Link had never before seen. Their faces twisted into terrible, malicious grins as they gripped the hilts of their swords with filthy, calloused hands. Sharp teeth glinted in the firelight when their mouths were open, their lips contorting into terrifying expressions as they spoke to one another, yelling insults and threats at the young elf. But he was not so easily daunted.  
  
I'll let them get close... he thought to himself, a barely noticeable grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He reached for one of the lesser of the leather pouches at his waist as he crouched, digging through the three orbs inside to find the right one. Then they'll burn...  
  
"Master Link "  
  
NO   
  
Link turned impulsively, his guard thrown down by the scream. He peered through the circle of humans, catching sight of Loir, falling to the ground, a gaping wound in his side. Blue eyes grew wide with rage, and Link cried out, finding somewhere the strength to battle the all of twenty men around him. He swung his sword around in an arc, and sliced diagonally, decapitating several of them, and charged into them as they drove in on him with sheer brute strength. He jabbed and parried and sliced as hard as he could, and once he had defeated the ones in front, he whirled on his heel to face those that had just come behind him. He jabbed one of them in the chest, pulling his sword out and to the left, slicing him nearly in two, and used his extra leverage to catch another in the side. But this one was harder. He had to use both hands to push the sword through, and nearly vomited because of it. Each time he pushed he could feel bones crush, the tip of his sword catching against muscle and tissue. But the task was done shortly, and he ran back toward Loir, throwing himself down at his comrade's side.  
  
"Loir..." He stared down at him through teary eyes, pushing the dark hair from his eyes. "Loir? Answer me..."  
  
He looked up at Link, eyes only half opened, and stared for a long while, absorbing the look of despair that had crept over his leader's face and now was absorbing his very being. He cried out and grabbed hold of his arm, breaking his gaze. Link grabbed the fallen warrior's shoulders and held him, watching as he winced and struggled to keep himself calm. But there was little that Link could do to help him, there was no nurse there to fix the wound. The only thing Link could think of was Nayru's Love, a spell granted to him by the Great Faerie from his previous adventure. It was Loir's only hope, at least he could get someplace warm–like the stables, and die in peace rather than on that bloody battlefield.  
  
Link cast the spell.  
  
A flash of blue light engulfed the two Hylian warriors, protecting them for a few short moments from the attackers. Loir was scooped with great care into Link's arms, and was run quickly and carefully through the ongoing chaos of battle. Over the stone streets and through the rivulets of blood Link sped, his boots and leggings being stained with drops of the thick, crimson liquid as it flew from the street. He rushed through the stable doors, just as the spell wore away, the blue glow that once provided a comfortable shelter from the progressing battle dissipating before him. Link placed Loir down on the hay in one of the stalls and knelt next to him, and touched his fingers delicately to his forehead.   
  
"You'll be safe in here, Loir."  
  
"Master–"  
  
"Don't speak. Rest now, your sword wound will not be fatal so long as you do not move." He was lying, and he knew it.  
  
"You're hurt–"  
  
Link was startled by the comment, as Loir reached up, pulling the mail away from the royal blue tunic. He felt pain sear through his shoulder, something he'd not realized was even there. But what scared the warrior more was that even in his dying hour Loir was still trying to help Link, provide as much care for him as he could, when in all honesty, it should have been Link doing the caring. Loir had shown such undying devotion in the past, but this was absurd. No one had ever cared so much for Link before, Zelda herself hadn't even shown the courage and strength that Loir had, aside from a few short instances in the future that never was–when Ganon was still there, and she had risked herself to help him conquer the temples.  
  
It was then that he realized it.  
  
Loir had been trying to help when he was felled. He had been running into the brunt of the battle, only to be cut down on his way in. Such a thought was humbling, but Link knew that he couldn't simply sit and ponder what had happened. He had to keep moving, else the fell humans would find him.  
  
It was with that thought in mind that Link stood, giving a nod of final regard to Loir, and made his way across the stable to Epona's stall. She was there, saddled, ready to be taken into battle. He opened her gate and stepped in, allowing the horse to nudge him gently as she always did, but that did not last long. Her gesture of friendship had hurt him, the wound in his shoulder had been hurting since Loir had first pointed it out. But link quickly shook the pain off and mounted, urging his horse sternly from her place in the stall, once again entering the battlefield.  
  
He was in constant battle from the moment he left the stable, being shot at from all sides, a few of the savage men even daring to come close enough to attack with broadswords. He was the only mounted knight in the marketplace, but he wouldn't be there for long.  
  
"Epona Go " He screamed over the din of battle, slapping the flank of her hind leg to make his point clear.  
  
The horse obeyed without a second thought and ran with the speed she was so well known for, through crowds of fighting elves and humans. She trampled those that didn't move, and those that she missed were killed with a swift blow from Link's blade. He swung the sword with incredible force at anything daring to come within range. Using those tactics, it wasn't long before Epona was able to break through the chaos of the marketplace and into the field. It was there that Link needed to be from the start. He could see that point clearly.  
  
Blood ran through the grass, washing away with the rain and mud into the moat that surrounded the castle. Two thirds of his men laid in that mess, wounded or dead on the ground, being crushed under the fighting elves, humans, horses, or otherwise. But the thing that caught Link's eye more than anything else was that single, huge weapon that they had carried in. He remembered it being called a catapult, and he remembered seeing it in books of old wars. But the name didn't mean anything to him–it was what it was being loaded with that startled him the most. Its ammunition consisted of a raging fire ball, something he knew would be sent into the marketplace, if not into the wall to kill the other half of his knights.  
  
"Faern " He screamed, peering up at the wall. "Faern, are you well? "  
  
The old man poked his balding head over the wall, finding Link in an instant. "Aye, sir, for the moment."  
  
"You must get off of the wall Get to low ground immediately "  
  
"Aye, sir "  
  
It was at that moment that the catapult was released, launching the flaming orb into the wall. It broke through with ease, and Link could see through the gaping hole it left where it landed. On top of one of the buildings, the bazaar, where he'd first bought his Hylian shield as a boy.  
  
But his attention was turned within moments. The wall was collapsing. His men were falling under the rubble and stone, being crushed under its weight and their own. There was nothing he could do but watch–and that could not help them now. So he turned Epona toward the battle, momentarily stopped, and cried out with a rage unmatched by the mightiest of demons. It was with that rage that he charged in, slicing at the enemy troops with quick strokes. He plowed through their men and toward those operating the catapult, and sheathed his sword, pulling his bow out in its stead. He expertly drew one of the arrows, nocked it and aimed it with care. If his way was had, he would cut down all five of them with one shot.  
  
The arrow flew. Five men fell, the arrow lodged in the final one's neck. But it did not stay there long. Link rode over, retrieving his arrow from the wound, and placed it back in his quiver. He turned Epona round, and began sending a barrage of arrows through the battling armies. But he was stopped short.  
  
A dozen horses, black as the night itself, galloped out of the marketplace, jumping over the collapsed drawbridge without any trouble at all. On the center horse rode a knight with chain mail of a type that Link had never seen, a helm of matching gold, and a sword drawn in his left hand. In his right he held Zelda, unconscious, and was riding away with her.  
  
Link was stunned. Fear and anger and worry shot through his body, overwhelming his mind. For a brief moment, he found himself unable to do anything at all but stare. How could he have been so stupid? To have left both her and the king at the palace virtually unguarded was an idiotic move, and now she was in their hands.  
  
Go after her   
  
It was the voice again, the words struck at his mind with incredible force, and forced him to move. He kicked Epona's side with his heels and sped off, in angry pursuit of Zelda's captors. He pushed his horse to speeds he didn't know she could reach, but found that she wasn't moving fast enough to catch them. 


	3. The Haunted Wasteland

Hey all, thanks for still reading, and sorry it's been so long. Between school and band and work I've barely had time to do anything! Anyway, I'd like to give special thanks to Eric Bellinger for helping me get over my writer's block so that this chapter could be written. ARIGATO ERIC-CHAN!  
  
Standard disclaimers apply--much to my regret I don't own zelda--nor link, impa, etc. However, all characters not copyrighted by Nintendo (most of them from here on out) are my own creations..yay me!  
  
R&R CUZ MY PLOT BUNNIES 3 U!  
  
Chapter Three: The Haunted Wasteland with the Future Unknown  
  
He rode for days, through the field and toward the great desert, where he knew Zelda had been taken. Within two days he reached Gerudo territory. The town of females was bustling, from the fortress of sandstone down to the archery range, there was nowhere without life. But this was the past, not the false future, no one knew him there. His onlyi means of getting past the hundreds of guards was in a small card that he'd been awarded on his past quest. The Gerudo's second-in-command had given it to him for his ability to sneak through the fortress long enough to free three carpenters.  
  
He did not stay there very long. Within three hours of his arrival he was gone again, this timme to the south, through the gates that lead to the vast desert known as the haunted wasteland. Navi was his only companion, Epona would stand no chance in such a gruelling environment.  
  
The winds began to pick up as the sun satarted to dim over the horizon. As much of a relief from the heat as it was, the sand began to blow around, creating small dust devils in the distance. The grains pelted against Link's face, arms, and legs without mercy nor cease, cutting the hero's fair skin until it was raw and bleeding in places. He held up his hand to shield his eyes.  
  
"Navi, where are we?" He called desperately over the howling winds.  
  
The fairy flew from her shelter under Link's hat and hovered with a faint glow before his eyes. "I don't know! We must be getting close though..."  
  
The words were lies and Link knew it.  
  
"No, Navi. We have been walking but for a few short hours. We are still very far from our destination."  
  
The fairy's glow dimmed and she hid herself back on Link's shoulder. "Then what is it that I'm feeling?"  
  
It was at that moment that the elf felt it. The Earth shook beneath him, and the sand gave way to a gaping hole. He felt himself being pulled with the falling sand, feet slipping inch by inch toward the chasm.  
  
"Navi! What is it!?"  
  
She flew from his shoulder once again and hovered for a moment over the hole, peering downward. "It appears as though it's an earth snake."  
  
That's a big snake, Link thought as he drew his sword, readying himself for battle. "At least I've still got my mail."  
  
There was then a roar, so loud that it shook the earth in a violent spasm. Link opened his mouth to call for his fairy, but it was too late. The earth snake shot up from the ground in a blur of gray, brown, and black, knocking Navi from the sky and out of sight.  
  
"NAVI!"  
  
Link squinted into the sandstorm, searching desperately for any sign of the tiny light, but he found nothing. He was alone with the huge snake that now hung in the sky, glaring down at him with angry orange eyes.  
  
It lunged. With a cry, Link jumped backward and pulled up his shield. The beast contacted with the shield so hard that he fell back onto the sand helplessly, being pulled once again toward the chasm. But he pulled himself to his feet and shook off the heavy blow, staring once again into the demonic face of the sand worm.  
  
"Navi!" He called for her again, but to no avail. There was no sign of his tiny companion anywhere.   
  
Without another second's hesitation, Link began to maneuver through the sand, luring the snake closer to him at every moment. Th hero stared up and at the belly of the beast, knowing full well that its weakness was held somewhere in the thick plating that covered its underside. The fairy bow was pulled out within seconds, and was aimed directly upward, toward the animal's vital organs. Now all Link had to do was wait for the right moment.  
  
It came in the blink of an eye, the minute crack in the exoskeleton passed overhead, and a single arrow was let fly. It soared upward, piercing the snake's soft stomach, cutting through three thick layers of skin before it tore past the muscles, ripping the innards apart. Blood spurted from the arrow wound and the beast roared once again with a voice so loud it rung through the desert and hung in Link's ears. That final bellow of pain marked the end of its pitiful life in Hyrule. The monster fell from the sky, the gaping hole in the ground closed around it, engulfing it in a pile of the fine sand that covered the ground for miles around, leaving almost no trace that it had ever emerged. The beast was no more, its only remains were a few rupees scattered in its bloodstained wake.  
  
And Navi was still gone.  
  
"Where are you!?" Link called into the night. He could not remember the sun setting, the fight must have lasted longer than he'd thought. "Navi, where did you go?!"  
  
But there was still no response.  
  
Link cursed himself quietly and pressed forward, searching the dark sand all around him for any sign of the fairy, and sighed in relief when he finally saw what he'd been looking for.  
  
A tiny wing protruded from the sand, and Link dove for it without hesitation. He dug frantically around her, searching for Navi's frame.  
  
He only dug for a few short moments before he found her, laying unconscious, her bright glow reduced to a near nothing. He placed her gently in the rim of his hat, hoping that she would wake before the dawn, and carried on his way.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Link had walked for days on end, so many that he had lost count. His supplies had been dwindling for quite some time, and Navi had only just regained consciousness. He was beginning to grow weary and hot, tired of the heat and sun that beared down on his fair elven skin, tanning it and burning in some places. But through hunger and tiredness, he pressed onward, through the desert.  
  
He walked for two more days before he stumbled across what was to be his downfall.   
  
The moon loomed in the dark sky, illuminating the light sand with a silvery glow. Navi was flying out in front of him, her still dimmed light guiding the way. But Link still didn't see it coming, not until he felt himself sink.  
  
His left boot was caught without hope of retrieval, and his right boot joined soon after. The Hero of Time struggled, his fairy fluttering frantically over his head, but sank helplessly, slowly, into the pit of quicksand that he'd foolishly stepped into. He fell gracelessly in his struggle, landing flat on his face, but recoiled quickly and pushed himself up against the constant sucking of the sand.  
  
"Navi! Get me out of here!" he begged. His eyes grew wide when he finished the though, his subconscious reminding him that it was but a fairy that he addressed, that she would not be able to help him, and the quicksand was pulling him down faster with every passing moment. It now pulled at his chest, closing in around his shoulders, pressing against his frail, weakened frame without remorse nor cease. He felt as though he was suffocating.  
  
Link forced his hands up through the thick, wet sand and reached for Navi–knowing that she was his only hope now. But he couldn't speak, his throat was now surrounded–then his chin, up to his ears, and his head. He was left, grasping at the air for a few more seconds, before he saw no more, felt no more, and knew no more.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Link woke with a start, cold and shivering. He found himself laying on a bed made of hard straw, a makeshift feather pillow under him, and a tattered blue blanket covering him. He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply, knowing that something wasn't right.  
  
"The Hylian's awake, Smithy."  
  
"Makes me wonder 'ow he got caught in the first place... 'N in such poor condition at that!"  
  
The elf looked over and pushed himself up weakly. He looked over through the perpendicular bars, and spoke to the two men in the cell next to him, "Where am I?" he asked quietly, examining the filthy men from head to toe.  
  
"Aye, you're in Kakariko... Thought a Hylian would know that ifn' nobody else did."  
  
"You aren't of Hylian blood."  
  
"Good observation, my friend. We be human as Marik 'imself. Your people were outcast years ago..." The more scrawny of the two explained. It seemed as if he did most of the talking while his cell-mate, a more heavy set man with a short, unkept gray streaked beard, tried with all his might to pick the lock on the cell door. He continued explaining, "They resorted to piracy, knowin' that that was their only way to survive–'ow is it that ya don't know this, mate? You been livin' in a box for the past ten years?"  
  
"One could say as much,"Link replied as his attention was turned. He now watched as the heavy man gave up the lock and started reaching for a small item that hung on the wall on the opposite side of the small brick room, near a wooden staircase that obviously led up. He started speaking again. "What is that he's reaching for? I've never seen one before."  
  
"Be ye daft, boy?! 'Tis a revolver!"  
  
"A gun," the hefty man affirmed. "Ifn' that damned guard comes down here again, 'e'll be sorry he messed with ol' Smithy an' Devin."  
  
Link turned away from the men, looking through the bars on the east wall. The wall was made of brick with a small, vertically barred window that faced the sea. He noticed the drastic changes in the air of Kakariko, and even the idea that the once bustling town would have such a thing as a prison. That had always been reserved for the palace. Tiny boats were pulled into the port, some sailing off into the dark horizon. How Kakariko had changed–the place was huge, a city bigger than Hyrule Castle Market was, with houses of brick and wood, the streets lit by candles that hung in glass boxes. It was something he never could have dreamed of.  
  
He resorted to leaning back against the barred wall, and listened to the two bickering men next to him.  
  
"You'll never pick that lock," he began after a long while of listening to the two argue over how to open the door. "No matter how hard you try your fingers are far too big and clumsy to do the necessary things."  
  
"Well excuse us, Hylian," the heavy man, Devin, retorted, "we've not given in yet."  
  
"Do you think–"  
  
Link was interrupted by a loud crash from outside. He jumped to his feet without a second thought and peered out the window. A ship had made birth at the port, a huge boat, it was. The sails stretched high into the night, and beings poured out of it in unfathomable numbers.  
  
"They've got cannons!"   
  
Link looked over. The two men were peering out of their own barred window, gawking at the great vessel. "What are cannons?"  
  
"You 'ave been living in a box! Cannon–tis a big gun... You'll see."  
  
The Hylian started when he heard the first shots fired, the first explosion from the side of the ship. He followed the great cannonball as it pummeled into the city, crashing through brick buildings and into the townsfolk below, who scurried from their homes to find a safe place. The damage was devastating as more shots were fired. The city was being massacred, buildings crushed, the humans killed without remorse.   
  
"Gods..." Devin muttered, his voice hushed. All attention was turned toward him as he continued. "They're aiming toward us! GET DOWN!"  
  
The three men in the jail had barely enough time to throw themselves to the ground, away from the eastern wall before the cannonball crashed through the wall, knocking a gaping hole in the brick. But unfortunately, only one of them would make it out of there alive.  
  
Link looked up as the dust cleared, and looked to the gore in the cell opposite him. The two men had met an unsightly end. Blood splattered the cell where the cannonball had made contact with the two mens' upper bodies, and they now laid in halves, sprawled upon the cell floor. He gagged at the sight, at the smell, and broke for the hole in the wall.  
  
"Damn it!" He cried as he began trying to force his broad frame through the hole. He couldn't fit. "No, no no!" he cried in frustration, pummeling his fists against the wall before he fell. He cold, in a place he did not know, completely and totally alone with only the moon and canon fire to keep him company.  
  
Link woke, not remembering when he'd fallen asleep, to the sound of footsteps crashing down the stairs. His gaze shot to the far corner of the jail, where he saw three men coming down the hall.  
  
"Aye, there he is!"  
  
Link found himself cowering as the three approached. They peered into his cell and offered comforting grins. One of them stepped forward and touched his hand to the bars that acted as the cell's door.  
  
"Aye, that's the one," he confirmed, his voice silvery, though human. The dark haired man turned his attention to Link once again and knelt down, began speaking, "you sir, are the one we've been searching for. Your name be Link, I presume."  
  
Link nodded his reply.  
  
"We've come to spring you from this hell hole," he continued, "now I suggest you move away from the bars–this could get a bit ugly."  
  
Link complied and moved close to the back wall as the three men took their positions, each grasping a bar on the door. The leading man gave a short count, and the three pulled with all of their might to free the door.  
  
"One... Two... Three... Heave!"   
  
The door was pulled loose and fell to the ground with a metallic clang. Link was pulled from the cell by his arms, and helped to his feet.   
  
"Now come on, boy, we've got to get out of here before those accursed guards find you've gone!"  
  
"No–not without my sword..."  
  
"Aye, the sword... We found one such thing upstairs. Now come!"  
  
It was with that that Link was led off, toward one of the biggest, and most odd, adventures of his life. 


	4. Fate of a Prince

Hello all, time for a little change of pace with this fic! The Prologue is officially done, woot, and now we move on to part one. Beginning now, Every once in a while there will be a monologue of sorts, written in first person format. It's a way to show what our dear Linkey-poo is thinking, and show his direct emotion and stuff. I hope you like it, I tried to make him sound intelligent.   
  
Standard disclaimers apply.  
  
Sorry it's so short, but it's meant to be.  
  
BTW, I use a few Hylian words in here (woot), they're taken from Kasuto's website, thank you! 3  
  
Maji-a suffix used for princes/princesses, can also be used by itself, shows respect  
  
Kanoi- a suffix used for people who you respect but don't know very well.  
  
Part I  
  
Chapter Four: The Fate of a Prince  
  
Zelda. For weeks I have longed to see her fair face, to know that she lives and still takes in the pure air of Hyrule. I wish to know what has become of her, my princess, my fiance, my queen. But still I find myself without a lead as to where she is, not a breath has been spoken of her since I woke in that accursed prison, not since I spoke last to Navi in the Desert of Illusion.  
  
It is now that I sit here, lost in these thoughts, on the deck of the Kriashase, finest ship in all of the Hylian oceans, however stolen it may be. I find myself lost ever more frequently in the undulating waves of the sea, watching for a sign of my old life, the life I lost twenty years ago when I was nearly felled in that desert. I still cannot imagine exactly what it is that had happened.  
  
Was I locked away again? In the false future–the one that I created with Zelda–I was locked away. For seven long years my soul was left wandering in the Sacred Realm of the Triforce, bodiless and without form or coherent thought. Is it possible that this has happened again, and that by some strange means I was kept from the world, locked away in an ageless, timeless world for two decades? Could this strange place, this flooded world that Marik created be yet another false reality that will dissipate once I've fulfilled the inconceivable task that has been laid before me?   
  
All I can say for certain is that I must keep a low profile. There are few people here that know of me, the Captain Troe, who has lovingly dubbed me Maji, along with the rest of his jaunty crew. Mayhap that isn't quite the correct word to describe them. They are a light-hearted group of men,most of them humans, Marik's people, but they are very unkempt, dirty men with little manners nor tradition about them. Though appalling, I must say that I find their company rather enjoyable, if anything could be classified as such in my eyes. They have provided me with clothing of the time, which I must say is rather odd and unusually light, a comfortable change from my tunic.  
  
The people of this time are, as I have noticed and will recount rather bluntly, odd. Never before have I seen anyone wear such offensive clothes. Though they are human, I always had imagined them to have a bit of modesty. The women wear dresses that cut off low on their chests, their breasts hang from the tops of them, threatening to fall out at any moment, and they seem unnaturally thin. Troe'kanoi tells me that they were these devices called *corsets.* He says that they make them unnaturally thin, more attractive to the men, who are looking more or less for lust in many of the port towns. The men, including myself now, are clad in loose fitting blouses that button up the front and around the wrists, with coats that button down and stretch to the mid thigh. It is truly an odd dress, but whatever I can do to fit in, I will.  
  
What is the fate of Hyrule? Why has it changed so much? And what will become of me, the Prince of Hyrule?  
  
~Link'maji 


	5. Aldrien

Wow, sorry for the long time between updates, but now is spring break, and I have plenty of time to write now that I don't have school. Oh well, I hope you like this chapter, it's actually a bit longer than the others.   
  
AN: I added a new character, his name is Aldrien, I hope you like him as much as I do .  
  
Chapter Five: Aldrien  
  
"Ye be Link–the last the ancient Hylians.."  
  
The hero looked at the floor and shook his head. "What happened? Why has my world changed so   
  
much?"  
  
The aging human sitting at the table opposite Link gave a light chuckle. "Tis not your world anymore. It's Mariks–that dog... Tis been our aim to kill him since he took control of Hyrule twenty years passed..."  
  
Link sat forward. "Do you know what happened? After the castle was attacked that day–"  
  
"Aye, but don't be mistaking me for a historian."  
  
Link shook his head, "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I see no profit in it for me. I be but a lowly pirate after all," he trailed off, eyeing Link slyly.  
  
"What is it that you want?"  
  
"Your help dealin' with this Marik character."  
  
"Do you believe that I wouldn't help you kill Marik?!" the Hylian was angry, obviously. He pounded his fist on the table and leaned over, face to face with the elder man. "What in the Goddesses' names makes you think that the one who killed my family–massacred my people, and took over my country was not meant to die by my sword?!"  
  
"I didn't bring ye here for ye to be cross! Now shut yourself and listen! Ye be the great hero the legends spoke of, aye, ye are. So it must be true that ye be the one that set Marik free as well. If that be the case, then ye be the only person that can bring the four shards of the Hylian stone back together..."  
  
"Hylian stone?" Link questioned, sitting back in his seat, absorbed in the captain's speech. He folded his hands behind his blond, uncapped head, and stared intently into the captain's eyes.  
  
"Aye, lad, the stone. Tis the only remnant of the Triforce left. When Marik was set free, it was shattered and sent to the far reaches of this world," the captain nodded and looked away. "Twas then that we resorted to the lifestyle we lead now–the men of the world, anyway. We turned to a life of piracy not only to escape Marik, but so that we could search and someday, may'ap, bring him down in the name of our old alliances."  
  
"And that is why you need me..." Link continued.  
  
"I'm gettin' there, lad. We've not been able to find the stone shards, and that is where you come in. If ye help me men find those shards and later, when your dear kingdom is restored, pardon us of our misdeeds, I will keep ye safe, well clothed, with all the luxuries one could want," the captain stretched his dirty, calloused palm over the table. "Do we have an accord?"  
  
Link took his hand and squeezed it, giving a nod of approval, "Agreed."  
  
"Then lets go get you some new clothes, my friend. Ye be a bit too scruffy for me liking."  
  
Link quirked an eyebrow as he watched the stout captain take to his feet, walking for the door. He pondered to himself, wondering exactly what kind of mess it was that he'd gotten himself into, and shook his head, speaking quietly to himself, "So now I'm scruffy? What in the Nine Hells is scruffy?"  
  
The Hero of Time stood and followed the captain from the cabin and out onto the deck of the great boat that had been introduced as the Kriashase. The crew of thirty-five bustled about, piloting the great schooner over the wide blue ocean. Link strode cautiously over the deck, following the captain closely, and meandered close to the railing of the ship, the only thing that kept him from falling overboard. He continued to walk, averting his eyes from the ocean and the memories it sparked within him, quickening his pace so that he strode beside the captain along the length of the deck until finally the two reached a decorative wooden door distinguished as being important only by the tiny, ovular stained glass window that adorned it's top half.  
  
"This is quite a ship you have here, sir," Link commented, finding himself rather awestruck by the whole ordeal.  
  
"Aye, commandeered from the greatest of Marik's fleet," replied the man with a sly grin, "but that is the least of our concerns now."  
  
"And what," continued Link, "is of our greatest concern?"  
  
The captain smiled, showing his yellowed and rotting teeth in the sunlight, and shook his head, readjusting his had as he lead Link through the door under the poop deck, into the captain's quarters.

The assassin prince stared at the ocean and shook his head, covering his face with his hand before he whirled on his booted heel to face the ten guards that stood behind him. Cerulean eyes scowled through blonde bangs into each of theirs before he finally spoke, his silvery, melodic tenor ringing with anger.   
  
"You allowed them to escape!" he scolded with his deep Hylian accent. It was for that reason, aside from the clothes, that he was recognized as a noble, more specifically, the rightful, however misplaced, heir to Hyrule's throne. That being the case, he was the only full-blooded Hylian allowed to command any humans under Marik.  
  
"Master Aldrien, it was not our fault, they had a ship."  
  
The young Hylian scoffed his dissatisfaction and turned back around, staring into the horizon. "A ship will be readied for my departure upon the rise of Din."  
  
The guards all glowered at the mention of the Goddess. Since the overthrow of the Hylian monarchy twenty years before, the deities had been forgotten, their mention was taken as blasphemy to the new crown, high treason punishable by death.   
  
But Aldrien was different.  
  
"My Lord..."  
  
"Enough of your insubordination, Miek'lai! I am your commander and you will treat me as such."  
  
"You are a child!"  
  
The prince turned and stared coldly at the human before him, knowing well that the lower ranking soldier was the dominant, superior race of Hyrule, by all stereotypical rulings, but Aldrien was superior in the new hierarchy, finding his comfortable place as assassin in the high ranks of Marik's private guild. He would use that to his advantage.  
  
"A child, Miek'lai?"  
  
"Merely nineteen, a child," the dark haired man snarled in return, his tanned skin crinkling at his brow.  
  
"No," Aldrien shook his head and smiled, almost too warmly, throwing the men around him off balance, "a child by your standards–but by the consideration of the Hylian elves I am an infant, wise beyond my years, with hundreds of ages left before me. That is what I am, and that is what you will be forced to deal with until your death. And may I remind you," he paused to see a slight nod from his inferior, "by that time, I will be a mere child, and this child may well deal your death to you with a swift blow of the blades forged by another, lesser-fortuned child.  
  
"Guards," he growled, eyeing the other nine men surrounding him, "death will be suitable. On the charge of treason to the crown. Ready my ship by noontime, I will return with the supplies from the castle town by then."  
  
"But, My Lord, that is a night and half a day's ride from here," one of the other soldiers argued pointedly, but Aldrien did not care.  
  
"Maybe by your horse, but not by my Epona. She will have me there and back by noontime."  
  
And with that, Aldrien stepped away from the crowd of men and into the shadowy, dangerous streets of Kakariko, pulling his cowl over his face as he walked. Deep into the city he walked, until the moon was high in the night and the fire lights outside of the houses burned to glowing embers, when the assassins and burglars roamed at large, searching carefully and stealthily for their next victim.  
  
Many times Aldrien had been targeted for such. But the young Hylian prince would not be so easily murdered, robbed, or otherwise. A prince by day, assassin by hire, he had grown on these very streets, practically outcast from his family at Hyrule castle, albeit for his own security and safety in the revolution. In that short amount of time, between his departure from the castle and his reentering as high commander of the Hylian army, he had been taken in by many of the Moguls that commanded the robbers around the city, being hired almost every night for one stealthy mission or another. His reputation for killing had been well established by his early teenage years. Between stealth, speed, and lack of consequent evidence, he was undoubtedly the most well known, and most feared assassins on the streets.  
  
He knew his reputation well, and did not toy with such a thing. He could feel the eyes watching him, demonic eyes of humans and conjured spirits trained to follow his every motion stared through windows high above the ground, and the robbers that he uncovered in the few alleyways he passed through cowered at the sight of the twin long knives that hung on either hip.  
  
"Young sir," came a voice from behind a nearby house, beckoning from the lightless alleyway. Aldrien was, however, not phased by the sudden calling, but rather, found himself intrigued by the elderly sounding man, doubtlessly an aging human beggar, ready to call upon the nearest well built figure for a little protection or a few rupees.  
  
"Yes, m'lord?" Aldrien replied through a smirk, though his voice remained unwavering. He stopped and turned his attention to the alley, stepping into the shadows, wrists resting comfortably on the hilts of his weapons.  
  
"My Mogul has a proposition for you, Aldrien."  
  
"And I have business elsewhere, beggar. State your proposition and be gone from my presence," the assassin growled in reply. Aldrien was in no mood to be toyed with, not with such an urgent task as pirate hunting before him. If he was to catch the rogues that had ravaged Kakariko, and recover the escaped felon, he would have to work quickly.  
  
"My master wishes you dead," the elderly man stood, ripped his cowl from his face, and revealed a surprisingly young thing that had taken the form of a beggar.   
  
If only Aldrien was a bit more empathetic, maybe the man would have lasted longer. But with lightning fast motion, the long knives were snapped from their sheathes, and drawn across the man's slender, pale neck were two thin, red, parallel slits. And in the same fluid move, the knives were replaced, and the man fell, clutching his bleeding neck, lifeblood pouring from the wounds while Aldrien walked calmly past, eyeing carefully the cross bowman that had his aim set firmly. But the prince knew well that that particular man would not fire his quarrel, not after witnessing the swift, merciless downfall of his comrade.  
  
Nobody would fire on Aldrien while he was on his way to the stable house that held the horses of the guard. In strode the assassin, throwing his cowl back to alert the stableboy of his coming, feeling almost as if the unusually loud clicking of his boot heels would not be enough to wake the thing. But, as always, the stableboy came rushing up to greet the man, five years his senior, and gave a deep bow before leading Aldrien through the drabby stables, past twenty five scrawny mules and poor excuses for horses, until at the very end they approached Epona, the pride of the Hylian military.  
  
She was a beautiful horse, even after so long. Her white mane showed a bit of gray, but her brown coat had not lost a bit of its former luster. She was as lively and difficult to tame as ever, but for some reason, Aldrien had always been able to ride her to her limits, making her easily the fastest horse in the country.  
  
"How has she fared this night, boy?" Aldrien asked as he knelt beside the stableboy, taking in the image of his steed.  
  
The boy seemed absolutely ecstatic at the idea of talking with the Hylian prince. "She's well, Your Majesty. Well indeed if I may say so. However," he paused, looking to the blonde man at his side, subconsciously wondering how in the world a Hylian could have rose to the ranks of high general, "she did not eat much this night. You may wish to have her checked by a more–capable person than I."  
  
"You are the most capable person in Hyrule, my boy," Aldrien replied, reaching into the pouch at his side. He produced a generous handful of rupees and handed them to the boy, nodding his approval. "And that is why I come to you time after time, entrusting you with my horse, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, My Lord Aldrien, thank you My Lord," the boy replied happily, taking his leave from the prince, counting his rupees happily as he bounced away, leaving Aldrien to mount and ride from the stables toward the Hyrule Castle Market.  
  
Aldrien rode long into the night, his bow kept close at hand for when the stalchildren came from hiding. Always there was an arrow notched on the string, for Hyrule field at night was not, by any reckoning, a safe place for travelers. Monsters roamed the lands freely once the sun set, each using its species' qualities to their fullest extent. The stalchildren, however, were the most devastating to passing merchant caravans, second only to the occasional wolfos that mercilessly slaughtered any human in sight faster than that poor unfortunate could react.  
  
But as the palace came into view on the moonlit horizon, so did a particularly suspicious patch of bare ground. And as Aldrien cautiously approached, he saw the telltale shadows of the stalchildren in their favorite hiding spots, waiting to reach out from the ground, grab, and pull down to their death, the first person to approach.   
  
Aldrien would not be that victim.  
  
He let fly an arrow into the dirt patch, calling upon his seemingly innate magical powers as he did, and the tip of the arrow was set ablaze with the fire of Din herself, such a light that the prince nearly had to avert his gaze.  
  
His magic, rumored about the land nearly as much as his alter identity as an assassin, had been an obvious blessing since birth. However, none could explain the abilities, and most called it a sign from the three deities. Why else would a Hylian of all races be given the gift to summon fire at will; to cover anything in a layer of thick ice, or even to produce impenetrable globes of blinding white light over unsuspecting foes? Those abilities were a grand gift, and some fanatics had even ventured to say that consuming the heart of the possessor of such gifts would bestow them upon others. Some said it was a sign of the apocalypse. But either way, Aldrien's powers were inconceivably strong, blasting through the ground and into one of the four stunned stalchildren, the arrow shaft splitting its skull down the center while the fire set its innards and clothing, however sparse, blazing.  
  
In that split second, the remaining three stalchildren jumped from their holes, advancing with short, labored steps toward their attacker. But Aldrien only could smile as arrow after arrow soared through the air, hewing limbs and splitting skulls, ultimately killing two more of the foul beasts before they even had a chance.  
  
Three arrows were fired and two of the beasts had fallen beside their first dead partner. That left only one of the four, to be dealt with by a few clean swipes of Aldrien's long knives.  
  
Aldrien slowed Epona and dismounted, snapping his blades from their sheathes with lightning fast motion. He stepped toward the stalchild slowly, measuring its seven foot height in comparison with his meager five and a half feet, and began slicing, left blade cutting up and into the stalchild's bone shoulder, while the right cut harmlessly across the thing's exposed ribcage. Aldrien reversed both blades and brought them both back down diagonally, slamming them deep into its skull, downing the monster where it stood.  
  
By that time, the sun had broken through the night, and the bones of the dead stalchildren sank back into the ground to regenerate, recreating their undead keepers, only to be killed again.  
  
After mounting Epona once more, Aldrien's attention turned to that rising sun.  
  
"Epona, the sun is red this morn," he mused quietly, his voice solemn and quiet, "someone has passed from the world this night, and it is one of great import–I can feel it..."  
  
He kicked his heels deep into Epona's flanks and the horse took off with blinding speed toward the castle town, her rider's worry mounting with every long stride. 


	6. Death in the Castle

HIYA! Sorry it's been so long, but this chapter is a bit longer and better written than the last one, I'm sure you'll find.   
  
AN: I've been thinking about writing a little fiction about Aldrien. You know, giving his background, a bit more of his childhood, how he developed into what he is, family life, social life...The basics, up until he is introduced in this story. Let me know what you think, and R&R! ^_^ 3  
  
Chapter Six: Death in the Castle  
  
  
  
Epona flew the remaining distance to the castle, shoes clattering over the cobblestone pathways until she reached the town's drawbridge, where four human guards stood, spears poised to attack any intruders. The prince stopped abruptly, and Epona reared, and he stared down at the guards, absorbing their forlorn expressions as they returned his gaze.  
  
"Master guard, what is the trouble here?"  
  
"Death in the castle, My Lord, it would be best if you go quickly. They may need you."  
  
Aldrien felt his stomach drop to his feet, and only after nodding his appreciation to the guard, did he set Epona off and into the marketplace.  
  
The town usually bustled with activity, even so early in the morning, but that morning only the shopkeepers and merchants were there, tending their stores and stands, polishing their wares, none stopping to even regard the high prince as he rode past. And quickly he did ride, through the larger marketplace and through the main plaza, leading Epona quietly through the streets and to the newly paved pathway that led to the castle's courtyard.   
  
Aldrien's dread gathered until it was nearly intolerable as he rounded the first turn in the path, coming to the palace gates. Why they had set the huge, towering gates so far back from the palace had always been a mystery, and this day, more surprisingly, there were no guards watching the gates.  
  
"Damned guards," Aldrien cursed under his breath as he dismounted, patting Epona approvingly on the flank, "leaving the gate without lookout."  
  
He shoved against the gate, but it would not give. And with a cry of frustration, Aldrien noted the huge locks along the center of the gates, where they came together, and whirled on his heel, pacing back to his horse. He tethered her gently to the tree near the bend he had just rounded, and turned to the wall, half dreading the climb that laid ahead of him.  
  
Those vines were ancient, he knew. His mother had recounted many tales of her outside visitors climbing up the walls, sneaking past the guards and into her private courtyard, and at that time, he recalled every detail. Up the vines he climbed, cursing his bad luck all the way, but taking great care not to snag his royal blue tunic on the thorns, until finally he reached the top, twenty feet off of the ground. He pulled himself onto the plateau and rushed across to the gates, surveying from high the path that snaked northward to the castle. There were no guards in sight, not even guarding the main gates, and the prince could only guess that those were locked tight as well. But he jumped down anyway, and if the long fall caused him any pain he did not show it, for he continued to sprint around the path, up the hills outside of the castle, and through the outside gardens. The tiny grove outside of the main gates had not grown at all since he had been born, no new trees had grown, and through them, he could easily verify that no guards were at their posts that day.   
  
On he ran, until he came to the main gates, locked tight, and thus he turned once again, making his way to the wall on his left, where more thorned vines grew. He climbed them with the same foul tempered attitude and jumped down onto the white stone pathway that led around the castle's moat, making his way around the back of the castle, figuring it to be the only way he would get inside.  
  
He only could hope that he was small enough to fit through the hole that lead to the courtyard.  
  
But to his relief, he was able to easily clear the short jump over the moat at that point, and through the small hole he crawled, emerging on the inside of the castle's main walls. He ran onward, through the gardens and around vine covered bends, not a single guard to be seen, until he reached the main courtyard, where his mother usually stayed.  
  
It was at that point that the dread filled his heart the most.  
  
How long had he been gone? Four weeks on his last mission, four weeks at the least. And in that span of two fortnights, the gardens had become unkept, dirty, overgrown with weeds and vines, as if no one had tended them for some time. His pace slowed then, and he looked up at the sun. Red it was, red it would remain for the remainder of the day, and judging by its position, that day had just begun. He strode cautiously over the vines, taking great care to avoid stepping on any of the few remaining flowers, until he reached the pedestal where his mother often sat when he was a child, holding him on her lap, telling him stories of his father, long since deceased, telling him of the many trials that they had endured, and ultimately of how her kingdom had come to be the way that it was.  
  
But he knew well that there was no time for nostalgia, and he stared hard at the window before him, open as usual. The prince humbled himself for that slight moment, and squeezed himself into the window, falling gracelessly into the corridors between his quarters when he was home, and the rest of the guards' wing.  
  
Aldrien brought himself to his feet and brushed the dirt from his cloak and tunic, and began off through the winding stone corridors of the castle, through the huge west wing, until he came to the main entryway of the castle, where he finally found the first life he'd seen since that morning at the gate.  
  
Two guards stood, spears in hand, at the huge, oaken doors to the throne room, and apparently, they had been awaiting Aldrien's return. One of the two, the scrawnier, approached the Hylian with little more than a nod to acknowledge that he was in the presence of a higher power.  
  
"Young Master Elf," he began, his customary greeting to the elven lord, "it is urgent. Lord Kimmendell has been awaiting your return with the palace messenger. Where, I pray, is he?"  
  
"Messenger?" Aldrien inquired, voice stern, brow furrowed with a puzzled expression. "When was he sent?"  
  
"A fortnight passed–we were worried that he would not make it to you in time, seeing as how you were in the southernmost parts of Kakariko. It is well known the great distances to be crossed from there to here..."  
  
"I never saw your messenger. I came of my own accord, I have a ship leaving the port city at noon. What is the trouble?"  
  
"Your mother..."  
  
It was all that had to be said. Aldrien's bright blue eyes widened in uncharacteristic horror, and he shoved the guard away, storming through the great double doors, leaving barely enough time for the remaining guard to open them for him. But the prince cared nothing for ceremony at that point–he only wished to see his mother, and he passed through the heavily guarded outer hallway to the throne room with a mass of twelve guards at his heels, begging him to calm himself before he approached the human ruler of Hyrule.  
  
Aldrien would hear none of it. The assassin had taken the cool-headed prince's place, and was bent on revenge for whatever had taken his mother. And in his rage, he approached the heavy double doors that led into the throne room, shoving them open with all of his strength, succeeding where two of the strongest guards would have failed, and barreled into the presence of his human king.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded coldly, loudly, as he stepped right up to the golden, jeweled throne where Kimmendell, the human directly under Marik sat, tapping his fingernails impatiently on the arm of the great chair. "What demon has taken my mother from me?! What sort of..."  
  
"Aldrien, my son, calm yourself," Kimmendell replied cooly, leaning forward to clasp his white gloved hands in his lap. "The Lady Zelda passed peacefully."  
  
"You did it, didn't you, you filthy human! You took my mother's life! And without such a warning to me?! What makes you honestly trust that I will not come to kill you in your sleep for such a brash action against mine own blood?!"  
  
"You have more tact than that. My personal assassin would not act against his master, his keeper, his king. Am I not correct in this observation?" the baritone replied, eyeing Aldrien's hands on the hilts of his twin weapons.  
  
It took every ounce of restraint contained in the prince's fair frame to hold himself back. He knew well that the repercussions that the slaughter of a king, no matter how tyrannical, would be grave. He realized that it was no coincidence that Kimmendell had sent him away on a long winded mission, and for the time being, Aldrien would have to settle with speech.  
  
"You will provide my mother with proper funeral services upon my return from this mission, and now you will provide me with the proper supplies for my departure, as well as a cleric to make my road back to the southern ports of Kakariko swift, since you have caused me such a painful inconvenience, will you not, Kimmendell?"  
  
Aldrien eyed the well clothed, muscular king with a well restrained scorn, and Kimmendell knew well that any threat that passed the lips of Aldrien of the House of Royals was not idle. The king could only nod his head, his black locks falling over his robed shoulders.  
  
"Where is my mother now?" the Hylian demanded.   
  
Kimmendell shrugged and looked to the side, "She must by this time be wandering the valleys under the guidance of you damnable Hylians' goddesses. So much good they do you in the end."  
  
Twin knives were snapped from their sheathes and were held at the king's unprotected throat, their wielder pressing hard enough for Kimmendell to realize the obvious danger he had put himself in. With a flick of Aldrien's well trained hands, he would meet his gruesome end by means of decapitation. But there was one idea left, the only concept that would hold the wild assassin in check.  
  
"Treason," he whispered quietly, only loud enough for Aldrien to hear, "high treason is punishable by painful torture and death, and if that be the case, you will not be able to see to it that your mother receives the treatment in death that she deserves."  
  
"Damn your words!" Aldrien spat, drawing thin lines of blood against the king's throat as he replaced the swords in their sheathes, storming from the room.  
  
"Oh, and son!" Kimmendell laughed after him, "her body lies locked in the cellars, being tended to by the rats, and your supplies wait in the kitchens!"  
  
"I am not your son!" the prince shouted in reply as he slammed the huge doors behind him, taking his leave from the throne room.  
  
He damned himself, cursed himself to the deepest abysses imaginable for allowing his mother to be slaughtered and fed to the rats. But there was nothing that he could do, no way that he alone could go against the king and all of his underlings. Much less when the kingdom that was rightfully his was so close to ruin. He could only accept that his mother was dead, never to return, and that he would have to continue his mission for the good of his people, and for the safety and false security of his kingdom.   
  
In the throne room, however, the meeting had not yet been adjourned. Beside Kimmendell sat his head advisor, a human by the name of Crienath. The two, though just finished with Aldrien, had already become engrossed in their next conversation.  
  
"Milord Kimmendell," the advisor began, "I beg you allow me to share my plans for that one..."  
  
"Do as you will," replied the king nonchalantly.  
  
Crienath smiled a malicious smile and knelt before the king's throne, beginning his long explanation.  
  
"Marik himself sent word to us from the Under World," he started, "he says that he wishes Aldrien to be killed along with his mother. That will leave only the humans to the throne, save for Marik himself, who can be resurrected with but a few minor enchantments."  
  
"But that resurrection would be false," Kimmendell argued with a pause, "he would be only on this plane in spirit, not in physical form. To complete the revolution of this country we must have him here entirely."  
  
"Yes, that is but a matter of time. Once we get the boy's blood, it will be far easier to physically manifest Marik on this plane and bring him back entirely. In the end Aldrien would die anyway. At least this way it is for our mutual benefit, yes, my lord?"  
  
"Indeed. But Aldrien is such a valuable asset to our ranks–it would be a shame to rid ourselves of him at this point. Especially with the Hylians near extinction."  
  
"You should have thought of that before locking his father away in that crystal before the revolution then, shouldn't you? That will surely have killed the man, and he was the last of the bloodline of the House of Royals, save of course for Aldrien himself."  
  
"Aye, I should have thought of that," Kimmendell reasoned with himself, stroking a hand along the gentle curves of his clean shaven chin, "then Aldrien must die. Do as you will, though make certain to gather enough of his lifeblood to make the enchantment complete."  
  
"Yes, My Lord."  
  
"And Crienath..." Kimmendell began as his advisor turned to leave, and only after he turned did the lord continue, "send Aldrien on a mission–an absurd one. While he is out at sea we can have him search for the shards, the final piece to the resurrection of Marik."  
  
"Yes, milord."  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
Link and Captain Troe had been sitting at the small square table in the captain's quarters for hours, speaking of events passed and those to come. Link had barely touched the generous meal that had been laid before him, still untrusting of the time's foods, but rather, watched as the polite human across from him ate slowly and cleanly.  
  
"Do tell me what happened, now that we have agreed to your little proposal," the Hylian began quietly, picking up the hardened biscuit that sat on the edge of the plate. It was the only thing on the table that even remotely reminded him of home–wherever that place might have been.  
  
"We found ye in the cells in Kakariko, as ye know. But before that, we had only heard rumors of ye. Aside from their Majesties Lord Aldrien and Lady Zelda there were no Hylians in this world–when we heard that there was another of yer kind we had to find ye before ye were executed. The most logical place to start the lookin' would have been Kakariko, of course, seein' as how the Other-lands execute Hylians on sight–or at least did when there were some of ye left. Aldrien is the only one of yer kind that can travel this land freely."  
  
"Executed, you say," Link looked away with a sigh of relief after finally hearing the mention of Zelda, out the circular window at the side of the cabin. All that he could see was the wide ocean for miles around until the sea green met sky blue at the horizon. It was that exact ocean that was separating him from her at that very moment, and how he wished to cross it and be home again.  
  
"A pity indeed. My men and yourn had an alliance fifteen years ago."  
  
"And who, my I ask, is this Aldrien person?"  
  
"Ah, son of Lady Zelda," the captain retorted with a smile, hearing Link's unexcited reference to the boy, "he is a fine warrior, I can assure you that much. It's rumored that he is an assassin in Kakariko, for the highest of the Moguls around and even for Lord Kimmendell at Hyrule Castle as well. Ah, but even if that be true he'd never let his mother know that, it would crush her."  
  
"A strong boy indeed–I should like to meet him."  
  
"Not a wise wantin' if ye ask me. But mayap you'll get what ye want."  
  
The Hylian shook his head and urged the conversation along, "And what of me before you found me?"  
  
"The rumors told that ye had washed ashore in what was the Gerudo Desert, now the main ports of Kakariko," the captain replied.  
  
"The town has expanded much then."  
  
"Aye. The main city of Hyrule, even more so than the castle town."  
  
The captain looked up and grinned, shook his head, and leaned back, pushing his empty plate away from him. He folded his bony hands behind his head and fixed his emerald eyes on the elf, who by this time was feasting greedily on the food laid before him. Apparently the long stretch without food had finally taken its toll on him.  
  
* * * * *Aldrien shook his head and leaned on the windowsill, bare hands gripping the stone, and stared out the window of his bedroom for a brief moment, gathering himself together. He had but a mere hour and a half before his ship was set to leave, and that morning had passed in an exhausting blur of emotions and information. But his men were waiting, at least they were if they had the nerve to stay, and down the hall, his caretaker and the castle's head cleric waited to take him to the docks.  
  
"Aldrien?"  
  
He looked over at the bed at the glowing patch of pink light that fluttered around. That fairy had been around the castle for as long as he could remember, and for some reason had never left him alone. This time was no different.  
  
"What?" he retorted angrily, turning back to the window.  
  
"Do you really wish for her death to go without punishment?"  
  
Rage welled within him for the moment, but he did not let it show. He calmed himself and remained coolheaded, outwardly, and turned back around, leaning against the windowsill, then spoke, "I do not mean for that to be the case, but for now I must return to Kakariko. Lady Impa waits for me in her quarters and my men are there with a ship."  
  
"A ship?"  
  
"I have a mission before me... A new one, from Kimmendell."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"It would seem as though finding the pirates that ravaged Kakariko has been taken off of the fire, as they say. My new goal is to find the four shards of the Hylian crystal, though for what purpose I am yet unsure of..."  
  
The young prince clasped his broach together, binding his Hylian cloak around his neck, and strode from the room, the fairy close on his heels. She buzzed in his long, pointed ears for a moment, before he gave in and scooped her to sit on his shoulder, where she always found her place.  
  
Aldrien made his way through the winding stone hallways of the palace, taking no note of the perfectly polished and shining armors that hung and stood around the place, brushing past the countless floor-to-ceiling tapestries that adorned the walls in places. The most heed he gave to anything was to shield his eyes while passing through the brightly lit corridors leading to the royal's wing, where Impa stayed, and he, by rights, should have been housed.  
  
Those corridors had always been his favorite place to go as a child, before he was thrown from his world of innocence into the streets of Kakariko under the command of Kimmendell. He would sit for hours admiring the stained glass windows, listening to his mother tell the stories contained in them.  
  
But he had not heard one of those stories in many years, fifteen if he remembered correctly. He had barely been home in that time, long enough to share a dinner with his mother and Impa, and to receive his next mission from Kimmendell. Then he would be off again, spending most of his life living in the southernmost parts of Kakariko, sometimes traveling for months over the seas to live in the Other-Lands and establish a name for himself. As one of the only Hylians left, it was up to him to make sure that they were well respected, no matter the cost.  
  
Aldrien pushed the door to Impa's quarters open and knocked on the outside wall, stepping inside. She stood in all of her elder glory in the corner of the room, dressed in a traditional dress from before the revolution, a cloak wrapped tightly around her sturdy shoulders to keep the chill of the castle away. When she turned, her cloak spun around her torso, and she smiled warmly, inviting the young prince inside. He stepped up to her and bowed respectfully, always happy to see her still alive.  
  
"Master Aldrien, I see you've returned to us again," she began, her voice as young sounding as it always had been, "however in these sad times I'm afraid your welcome was not as grand as usual."  
  
"A mere sentiment, m'lady Impa."  
  
"If I had known of the tragedy I would have contacted you sooner."  
  
"But you did not, and for that you cannot harbor blame," he gave another bow, lower this time, and as he came up, took her wrinkled hand in his and kissed it gently, respectfully, as if he had done wrong to her. "I thank you for your assistance in my departure."  
  
"It is my pleasure, child. However, there are a few things I need to inform you of ere you leave."  
  
Aldrien leaned against the wall and watched the elderly woman turn away from him and pass to the other side of the room before she finally began to speak in a hushed tone.  
  
"Aldrien, I am afraid that you are in grave danger."  
  
The assassin could have laughed, had he less respect for the woman. But he kept his tongue still and remained expressionless, nodding for the woman to continue. "Go on, Impa."  
  
"Marik wishes you dead. In an earlier scrying, performed a fortnight passed, I overheard Marik and Lord Advisor Crienath conversing transdimensionally."  
  
"What did they say?" Aldrien returned, his demeanor changing to concern. It was a rarity that Impa told of her scryings, as they were oft performed in complete secrecy, and were meant to remain so, and only when the matter was of great import did she speak of them to anyone.   
  
"They spoke of your death.. I cannot be certain exactly how, or when, but I am positive that there will be an attack aimed against you at some point in your upcoming journey. I pray you take great care to avoid contact with others at all costs. If you must do so, remain on your ship, and only make contact with your home guild houses, and only when absolutely necessary."  
  
Aldrien looked away. Impa had been the only outsider to know of his position as assassin in much of the world, and though she did not approve, she knew it was his way of protecting Lady Zelda, by keeping Kimmendell and Marik's all seeing eyes on him, rather than her.  
  
But Impa kept talking.  
  
"Make certain you keep a low profile."  
  
"As if anything else could be expected?"  
  
Impa nodded her accord and knelt down next to a small wooden cupboard, and opened the heavily ornamented door. She pulled from it a thickly bound book of dark green leather, and stood back up. Clutching the book to her chest, she walked to Aldrien and handed it over gently to him, nodding as she did.  
  
"This was your father's."  
  
Aldrien stared at the book for a long while, cerulean eyes filled with curiosity. He almost dreaded opening the thing, after all that he had heard about his father.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"His diary."  
  
Aldrien's jaw dropped as he stared, taking in the size of it. It had to be at least three inches thick, and as he flipped through the pages to the back, the print was tiny, and stretched from cover to cover, every inch of every page with some kind of marking or symbol. He looked up at Impa once again, who simply stood with her arms crossed across her chest, grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear.  
  
"His diary," the assassin repeated.  
  
"I want you to read it," she replied, nodding to him. "I figured that it might help you along if you knew what you were getting into," the nurse continued, readying herself to create the portal. "It is rumored that the shards of the jewel were thrown into four of the old sages' temples. Your mother told you of those, I am sure."  
  
"Briefly," Aldrien replied quietly, scanning the first page of the great book, "in what she called a false future. Forest, Fire, Water, Shadow, Spirit, and Light, though I do not quite recall the telling of a temple of light."  
  
"That temple was never discovered, but you will find that your father visited and explored each of the other temples thoroughly. Read and learn, Aldrien, my son. I implore you to find the four shards, just as Lord Kimmendell bade you, but once found you must keep them, bind the jewel, and bring it back to me to be destroyed," she clasped her hands to her chest and turned to face the assassin. "You must do this, banish Marik to the dark realms, and decapitate the human forces. Once Marik is gone, Kimmendell will have no where to turn to, nowhere to go, and then you can avenge the deaths of your dear parents, who died because of Marik and his dark lords!"  
  
Aldrien was completely silenced, genuinely startled by Impa's request. She had never before uttered such blasphemous remarks concerning Marik, who oft times was considered by the people of Hyrule to be no more than a spiritual deity, than she just had. Had anyone overheard her speech, she would be dead before Aldrien ever returned from his lengthy mission, and with all of the eyes about the castle, that fate was more than a possibility. Much more, and Aldrien knew.  
  
It was all that the assassin could do to accept her request with a silent nod, and watch as she conjured the dimensional portal to Kakariko.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Kriashase made port in the Other-Land city of Fort Root, a place much larger than Kakariko, surrounded on all sides by a huge stone wall, an impenetrable fortress that was guarded on all sides by heavily armored, and heavily armed human soldiers. The crew had disembarked, and had been staying in one of the more dingy inns of the city, but no one minded.  
  
On one unremarkable night, several of the crewmen had ventured away from the inn and down to the slums of the city, where one of the most popular pubs sat in the middle of the plaza. Link and Troe had accompanied them, if only to assure that they stayed far from harm, and now sat on the tall stools at the bar table talking quietly amongst themselves.  
  
"You have seen the looks that they give you here, have you not?"  
  
Link nodded and looked down, examining the drink in his hands. The people of Fort Root had been eyeing him suspiciously, and maybe it was because he wore his hood low over his face to hide his elven features, knowing well that if they saw him, he would not live long enough to see the sea again.  
  
"It is because I am an elf. A petty reason for such a strong hatred."  
  
"But to them it is justified," Troe replied, taking a generous sip of the thick mead, slamming the mug back down on the wooden table.  
  
"Justified?" Link growled in reply, his anger mounting slowly but surely. "How can you honestly call such a stupid thing justified?"  
  
Troe looked around, seeing the expressions plastered on the surrounding mens' faces. At every table there were at least three well built humans that towered more than a foot above Link, staring angrily at him, hands clenching their mugs until their knuckles turned white for lack of blood. He then turned his expression to Link. The Hylian stared down, blue eyes locked in an icy gaze on his hands. His anger was apparent at that point, the captain had never seen him quite so emotional before, and wasn't sure if it was his place to say something or not.  
  
"Link, me boy. Quiet yerself," he began quietly, leaning over to the elf next to him. "I'll tell ye the reason they hate yer kind, I will."  
  
Link looked up, his face once again taking on the stoic expression it usually held. With a sigh, he resigned himself to listening to the captain, and took another sip of his water.  
  
"It be Aldrien's fault, but may whatever deity is there bless him."  
  
"There are deities there, Troe'kanoi. There are. And they have gifted the boy with unimaginable skills."  
  
"Bless them, then, as well," the elderly human continued, tapping his fingernails against his cup, "but Aldrien. Ah, the boy. He scares them, he does. A Hylian noble with that much power these days be intimidating enough, aye, but to be head assassin of the highest power in all of Hyrule, that be a different story altogether."  
  
"An interesting story, that it is," the Hylian agreed with a nod. He looked back over at Troe and closed his eyes, heaving a deep sigh, and continued, "It makes me wonder if even I could attain such a reputation here."  
  
"I have heard," Troe continued with a hushed tone, clearing his throat to abruptly switch subjects, "that Aldrien himself is pursuing us, even over the vast oceans. And as a side mission, Kimmendell has sent him after the same shards as us."  
  
Link looked up with and uncharacteristic start, eyes wide, and shook his head. He returned his gaze to the table and bit his lower lip, realizing the danger that his presence had put his human companions in. "How long now, do we have? How far behind us are they, I mean?"  
  
"Not far enough for comfort, me boy. He has apparently hired a speedy merchant vessel, much smaller and as fast as ours. With the waters as calm as they've been lately, he'll be here within two days. If we are not off of the mainland by that time, we will surely bring havoc to this town."  
  
"But where will we go? The temples are somewhere near the main island of Hyrule, are they not?" Link questioned.  
  
"No."  
  
Link looked up again and quirked a confused eyebrow, eyes full of curiosity. "Then where?"  
  
"In the shifting of this world, after Marik's henchmen gained control, the land split and changed. The outermost portions of the mainland that you once occupied have broken away and are now floating as solitary islands somewhere out there. Some could even be on the particularly ugly hunk of rock on which we now sit. I do not know where they are. We will have to search."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Troe looked over at his Hylian friend and offered a warm smile. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the horribly distraught expression that graced his fine, elven features. The captain then stood and clapped Link on the shoulder, nodding to him.  
  
"I'll be at the hotel if ye need me, boy. Ye needn't be afraid of these streets. Ye look enough like Aldrien to keep the thieves off of ye!"  
  
And with that, the human exited the bar, leaving Link alone with his thoughts. 


	7. A Fateful Meeting

Howdy! Sorry it's been FOReVER since I updated last--I just started working full time a couple of weeks ago and haven't had any time to write! Well, this week I had my wisdom teeth out--and that's the only reason I've been able to sit around and work on this chapter...so YAY FOR WISDOM TEETH! Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do. It'll prove fun later on   
  
R&R!  
  
Disclaimer: Zelda = not mine. Link = not mine. Aldrien = mine. You get the point, you see thepattern, I don't own zelda/never will.  
  
Chapter Seven: Fateful Meeting  
  
Aldrien stared ahead angrily as he stepped through the portal. Only one of his men remained, and when that particular one caught sight of his leader, he nearly ran. It was only fear that stayed him, for he knew well that if he ran he would catch a fate far worse than a simple scolding from his master, and that was if he was in a good mood. If he was not feeling particularly merciful, he would die either way, and from the looks of it, the young prince was none too happy to see all but one of his men gone.  
  
"What is this?" the assassin demanded, placing his left hand on his long knife.  
  
"My Lord Aldrien, I beg your forgiveness but the others–they left..."  
  
"Was my vessel secured, Kinadon?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. Secured and ready to depart on your word," the human replied, sweeping into a low bow, his short, stubby hands brushing against the cobblestones. "I am sure that you will find the ship to your liking, the fastest in all of Kakariko. It will have you to Fort Root in ten days."  
  
Aldrien looked away and relaxed for a brief moment. A ten day trip from even the southernmost of Kakariko's ports was astonishingly fast, for most ships the trek took a good fortnight. That was four days faster, four days that Aldrien knew that he would desperately need if he was to regain Kimmendell's favor and continue to prosper in the palace.  
  
For if what Impa said was true, he was far from being in a favorable position within the castle.  
  
"Those extra four days have saved your life, Kinadon," the assassin mused as he brushed gently past the human, toward the docks, "I relieve you of your duties as my servant. Report back to Kimmendell and tell him that I have embarked on this mission alone."  
  
"Yes, my lord."

* * *

"Aldrien, sir, we must make port soon..."  
  
The Hylian looked over and scoffed. He had been aboard the Mianeri for nine days, and was only one day from Fort Root, primary port city of the Other-Lands. The twelve man crew of the tiny ship had obviously been uncomfortable with the elf's presence aboard the boat, and it was apparent that the captain had meant to stop in the last city to reward his mens' tolerance with a well deserved break. But Aldrien was not yet ready to stop for supplies.  
  
"No," he retorted to the captain with a scowl. "Your men will be forced to endure my presence until we reach my destination. It was their choice to remain aboard the Mianeri, they were told that I would be joining you on your next crossing and that once I reach my destination each one of you would receive four hundred rupees. Am I not correct, my good captain?"  
  
The last line was delivered with such unwavering seriousness that the captain felt a lump in his throat and a shiver run down his spine. He may not have been the most intelligent being in Hyrule, but he did know the reputation of this particular Hylian, and understood the danger in crossing him even as much as he already had. But, at the same time he was running low on supplies, and his crew, even as small as it was, was gluttonous to their very cores, and would not likely be happy with the necessary rationing of food that another missed port would cause.  
  
And if it is food that you are so concerned with you can fish, can you not?" Aldrien continued with the same cold tone, reading the captain's thoughts perfectly. "You are men of the sea, I can see that point clearly. However, if you find that for some reason you cannot find fish yourselves, I suppose we will be forced to try another type of meat," the assassin dropped his hands to his twin blades and drew them just far enough for the sun to glint off of the polished steel. He then turned his icy cerulean gaze to the young captain, locking his focus on the fear within. "And it will be a kind I am sure you would be willing to provide. After all, it is the captain's duty to perish for the well being of his crew." He left the sentence trailing, allowing the finality of the words to fully sink into the human's thoughts.  
  
The young man realized fully that he had been threatened, and knew that Aldrien's words were far from empty. He could only nod, allowing himself to give in to his own great fear, succumbing to Aldrien's forceful, frightening charm.  
  
"We'll then pass through the next port town," he paused slightly, choosing his words carefully, "Again. We will ration the remaining food, and once those provisions have expired we will provide for ourselves until we reach the town of Calhoun, for five hundred rupees apiece."  
  
The human knew well that he was pushing his luck, but found himself caught off guard by the prince's abrupt response.  
  
"Five hundred per crewman for nonstop passage to Calhoun. We have an agreement, Kientri?"  
  
It was at that moment that the two were interrupted on the deck of the ship by one of the younger crewman, who huffed and puffed his way up the few stairs and onto the deck from the lower levels. For a young, strong boy of fifteen, he did not appear to be in the best of physical form.  
  
The crewmen knew differently, though, for this boy, Ire, had lived his entire life on board the Mianeri, growing fond of the sea. He was the most knowledgeable people about the oceans that Aldrien had ever had the pleasure–if he could call it a pleasure–of speaking with, and oft times acted as a lookout.  
  
Kientri noticed first hand that Ire's usually mirthful expression was replaced by one of concern and fear, amplified tenfold by the mere knowledge that he was in the presence of a Hylian. He stepped up to the boy and clapped his shoulder gently, bending just slightly to come to eye level, a tactic often used for the less tall members of the crew to aid in hearing.  
  
"What is the trouble, Ire?" Kientri inquired quietly, glancing up to Aldrien, who read the man's expression perfectly, and stepped back.  
  
"A ship, approaching fast from behind, sir," the boy replied, gasping between words for air, "showing no colors, as it were. I'm afraid it may be pirates."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nothing. It is a fast ship, however larger than ours, carrying a crew of at least forty good-sized men. I caught sight of a ballista as well."  
  
"A ballista and a crew of forty men," Kientri mused aloud, and shot another look to Aldrien, standing straight up. "I will need you, elf," he began, attention directed toward the assassin.  
  
"Your crew will need me," the Hylian corrected pointedly, "and I will aid you, so long as our agreement holds firm."  
  
"It will."  
  
The two nodded to each other, dismissing Ire back to the crow's nest, and parted ways, Kientri making his way to the galley to gather the crewmen together, while Aldrien made his way back to his quarters to prepare himself for the upcoming encounter. Down the stairs he went, past the galley, to the second door on the right, pushing open the door to reveal his tiny room, usually reserved for the first mate of the ship. There was a bed in the corner, bolted tightly to the floor, and on top of the blood red bedclothes sat his bow, Aluthriel, crafted of the finest wood from the ancient Kokiri Forest, and beside that, the small pouch that contained his most loathed–however valuable–possession.  
  
He scooped up the pouch and pulled its binding strings apart, and reached in, producing a tiny ball of dim light. Its glow dimmed and brightened rhythmically, steadily. He reached up gently with his index finger and poked into it gently, until the glow brightened significantly and a set of four tiny, translucent wings unfolded from its center. The fairy shivered for a moment and shook out its wings, and fluttered up to the elf's shoulder, finding her perch between his neck and the collar of his cloak.  
  
"Aldrien, you woke me for a purpose other than argument?" she questioned with honest curiosity. It was a rarity that the Hylian pulled her from her hiding spot without a definite purpose, and this time, unfortunately, was no different.  
  
"I woke you for battle."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Aldrien gathered his bow, Aluthriel, and quiver, and turned on his heels, striding from the room silently, with quick, urgent steps. He made his way up the stairs and past Kientri, who was meeting with his men about the ship, with Ire shouting distances from atop the mainmast, and found his perch at the very front of the ship, staring out to the southeast at the incoming ship.  
  
"Five thousand yards!"  
  
The elf made his way to the point of the ship, pulling his bow from his shoulder. He eyed it for a brief moment before notching an arrow on the string and pulling it back, taking his aim toward the ship. He let fly the arrow, watching as it fell into the water seventy yards away.   
  
"Aldrien?"  
  
The Hylian glanced to his shoulder, where his fairy sat, and blew a sigh of exasperation. "Yes?"  
  
"The opposing ship has a wizard. I feel black magic emanating from that direction."  
  
Aldrien nodded and bit his lower lip, pulling Aluthriel over his head so that the string ran across his chest and the wood across his back under his left arm, and stared out at the sea. A wizard on board the ship would explain the mystery of traveling against the wind, but that brought about another question. Where in the nine hells would a band of pirates come across a wizard? A skilled one, at that.   
  
"It doesn't add up," the prince mused aloud, oblivious to the fact that he had spoken his thoughts orally.   
  
"What doesn't add up?" the fairy retorted.  
  
"A black mage on the seas."  
  
Another call from the crow's nest interrupted Aldrien's words, "Two thousand!"  
  
The assassin cleared his throat and continued. "Yes, a black mage, unless one of those pirates is well trained in the arcane arts, a possibility I highly doubt. And even if they could find a black mage, why would it come to the sea?"  
  
"For the same reason as you," the fairy replied matter-of-factly. She fluttered from his shoulder and out in front of him, brightening her glow significantly. "Maybe it is that they are after the same artifact as you! Maybe Lord Kimmendell sent them to aid you!"  
  
"...Or to kill me..." Aldrien muttered in reply. If Impa's parting words had been any less serious, Aldrien would never have considered such a thing. Someone, out to kill him? The hunter being hunted? Preposterous. But Impa had said that he was in grave danger, Kimmendell was going to kill him, collect his blood, and use it to bring Marik back from the astral world, and the only way to do such a thing would be to use a mage. He continued his thought, "Cunning. But to think that I would not know when I am being pursued is absurd. Kimmendell, you have underestimated your enemy once again."  
  
"Two hundred! Open fire with the ballista!"  
  
Aldrien started back to reality and yanked the bow from its place around his chest, notching an arrow. The first fire from the ballista would begin the battle, the last arrow in his quiver would surely end it.  
  
The projectile fell short of the ship, landing in the water to the west, and the return fire was no more accurate. But at that point, the other ship was within one hundred yards, close enough for Aldrien to begin his battle with the men on board.  
  
He began by firing arrow after arrow into the crowds of men aboard the ship, each hitting its mark with striking accuracy, some even killing two men in one shot. And as the two ships came within ten feet of each other, the elf ran back to the main deck along with the scurrying, frantic crewmen of the Mianeri, each tending to his own duties, from readying swords to firing their own ballista, and backed himself up against the far rail. It was time to board.  
  
Throwing his bow aside, down the stairs to safety, the Hylian drew his twin knives and charged, calling upon one of his many magical abilities to create a twelve foot globe of blinding light on the deck of the pirates' ship. He jumped to the rail of the Mianeri with perfect balance, and bounded to the deck of the opposing ship with grace unmatched even by the most skilled of elves. Eyes closed and in the light, his knives began their mesmerizing routine. Around in graceful circles they went, until finally Aldrien found one of the two unfortunate men that had been caught in his spell. He sliced a deep gash in the man's chest with his right blade, his left complimenting the motion with a thrust high and into the human's throat. The pirate fell with a thud, and Aldrien whirled on his heel, catching the next confused man with a blade to the throat. The assassin caught him with his blades, double thrusting to the gut, halting the human's fall to death. He twisted, pulling up with such strength that the steel ripped through bones and flesh and out the man's shoulders, finally leaving the despicable thing to die.  
  
Away from the light the elf moved, all the while slashing and thrusting, parrying the pirates' blades with his own skilled techniques, killing any that moved close. Up the deck he charged, toward the center of the boat, and each human he met along the way found their blades deflected either wide or high, and before they could recover, were laying as their lifeblood spilled from their wounds. Aldrien advanced farther with each kill he made.  
  
"Aldrien!" the fairy called over the ring of steel blades and the cries of men, "the mage is atop the mainmast!"  
  
The assassin nodded and turned back around, catching a parry high and slicing in a great arc with his right blade, throwing the man's broadsword far out wide. Across came the left blade, slicing a line across the human's face, and the ugly pirate fell back, clutching the gaping wound where his eyes should have been. Aldrien watched as the wretch fell, and brought his attention back up.  
  
In front of him was the huge ballista, and the Hylian found that the projectile was aimed his direction, and manning the great contraption were six large men, each towering at least one and a half feet over him, and wearing a sneer of sickening delight.   
  
Obviously, Aldrien's head brought a large bounty.  
  
The lever was pulled, the flaming ball launched into the air. Aldrien threw himself backward, his back thudding against the hard wood of the deck so forcefully that one of the boards cracked and he found himself without breath for a brief moment. A few of the battle engaged humans even paused to regard the spectacle, wondering if the graceful elf had indeed been hit by the ball.  
  
But the projectile shot past, right over Aldrien's head, and into the Mianeri's side. Wood splintered and boards cracked, and in a bright fury the once beautiful ship went up in devastating flames.  
  
As if the now flaming ship was not enough, the three fourths of the Mianeri's crew that had not boarded the pirates' ship found themselves faced with a new, unfamiliar challenge: death by water or fire. The majority chose water, dove in head first, and took their chances in the icy, shark infested oceans. But a few valiant humans dove into the fire, coming out in a flaming ball of burning flesh and bone and clothing, jumping the long distance to the other ship, sending the deck ablaze and then falling into the oceans to their deaths.  
  
"My bow!"  
  
Aldrien literally jumped to his feet and sprinted to the side of the ship, watching as the Mianeri, and several of its crewmen, sank to their deaths. He leaned over the railing, watching intently as his bow sank to the bottom of the sea, and for a brief moment, found himself mourning the loss of such a precious item. However, his mourning was brief, for he was jolted back to reality by a sharp, searing pain in his left shoulder.  
  
Aldrien whirled on his heel, turning with a wince to face his attacker. It was the mage, an elderly human dressed inflowing brown robes, who carried at his side a pouch–one that Aldrien could only assume held materials necessary to cast spells.  
  
"Master Aldrien," the human began with a smirk, "it is good to see you again."  
  
"Tairan Undotrieal–first mage to Kimmendell–the man responsible for the constant scryings and summonings in the castle. I was certain that the last demon you summoned had killed you–and had you escaped that fate–Kimmendell was to kill you."  
  
"Ah, but my master summoned me once again, and if I succeed in my new mission, my place in the palace is to be restored to me without question."  
  
"And your mission," Aldrien prodded, gripping his blades eagerly, "is to collect my lifeblood for the resurrection of Marik?"  
  
Tairan was taken back, if only briefly. "How do you know?"  
  
"Well," the assassin replied dryly, the edge in his voice quite apparent, "had I not guessed by the fact that you are currently attacking me without provocation, there is also the fact that a black mage is seabound. Correct me if I am mistaken, Tairan, but I do believe that mages dislike water," he paused for a moment, "you are literally hunting me–you killed my crew and sank the ship that was giving me uninterrupted passage to Calhoun."  
  
"Calhoun?" Tairan interjected smartly, "you are a fool to disclose your destination to me."  
  
"You will be dead before your chance to pursue me further comes," Aldrien replied, "I have no fear of you nor any of your–quite dead–pirate friends following me anywhere."  
  
The mage took another look at the deck of the ship, where every one of his pirate men lay dead or mortally wounded, next to one or more of the former crew of the Mianeri. He returned his icy gaze to Aldrien then, staring long and hard at the young assassin, and readied himself for the attack. "But you must remember, Aldrien of the House of Royals, first blood is mine."  
  
It was at that moment that the twin long knives sprang into action, diving forward in a double thrust high, immediately putting the mage on his heels–a dangerous position for any adversary, skilled in the art of fighting or not. That particular moment was no exception.  
  
Blades whirred and spun, but Tairan parried each swing skillfully with the metal gauntlets that adorned his robed arms, regaining his footing enough to begin chanting a slight dweomer to put himself on the offensive. And as the blades continued their graceful routine, Tairan pulled from the leather pouch a small dirk and a long piece of black cloth that could easily have been used as a blindfold. He then dove to the side, tucking his shoulders underneath himself and into a headlong roll, coming up well out of the reach of Aldrien's long knives.  
  
Tairan called out the final words of his spell, throwing his materials in the air. But, he had not counted on the tiny moment before the spell took effect, and Aldrien had. He launched his knives, blade over hilt, calling upon Din for her fiery gifts, and watched with near glee as the flaming steel drove into the mage's chest, setting his robes and flesh afire. Tairan screeched in pain and flailed about, throwing the flames to the wood, spreading the fire quickly. Then the spell took effect.  
  
The effects hit hard, stealing the assassin's breath and sight. He found himself doubled over in pain, holding his chest where he had felt the brunt of the spell, as if someone had taken a long, thick-bladed dirk and drove it deep into his lungs and heart.  
  
With one final blurred and darkened glance up at Tairan's withering form, and collapsed to the fiery deck of the sinking schooner.

* * *

Sound. The sound of breathing, steady and rhythmic. It poured into the assassin prince's ears like the din of battle until he could stand it no more and was forced to push his eyes open, straining and squinting against the candlelight that poured in.   
  
Aldrien pushed himself to his elbows and leaned against the feather pillow under his back. He closed his eyes against the blinding firelight and opened them once again, heaving a sigh for he could see, and took a long look at his surroundings.  
  
To his right and against the far wall sat a small table, bolted tight to the studs. He was covered in the finest of satin bedclothes, and near the footboard of the oaken bed laid his fairy, her tiny light dimming and brightening with each breath. But to his chagrin, Aldrien found that the breathing he had heard was not coming from his fairy. Instead, it was from his left, where a petite man sat slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed down.  
  
He was obviously asleep.  
  
The prince swung his feet over the side of his bed and pushed himself up. He staggered for a moment as though drunk, and began the short trek to the door, passing by the sleeping man with the same silent steps that he used in Kakariko. With a creak, he pulled the door to the small cabin open and stepped into the hall. From where he stood, the bustling crew could be heard well, but even above that was the lapping of the ocean waves against the side of the ship.   
  
He nearly fell over when the ship kicked with the impact of one of the waves, barely steadying himself against the wall. Eyes closed, he turned his face to the floor and nearly fell to his knees as he was overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness–how long had he been unconscious? And what had happened after he had killed the wizard?  
  
"I see ye're awake," came a voice from ahead of him. The prince started and looked up, palm against his forehead, and found himself face to face with the man he could only imagine was the first mate of the vessel he was aboard. But he remained silent, even as the human beckoned him to follow him to the deck of the ship.   
  
When the two stepped onto the deck, the entire crew fell silent. The hush was so complete that even the waves seemed to stop, until Aldrien composed himself enough to finally speak confidently.  
  
"What in the nine hells are you staring at? Have you never seen one of my kind before?" he said, the anger apparent in his voice. Never had Aldrien enjoyed being stared at, though through his life he had gotten used to being made a spectacle around the humans, especially those in towns that he had not visited.  
  
"Follow me," the first mate called, waving Aldrien to follow him toward the poop deck, where the single wooden door sat propped open for all to see inside. The prince obliged with no resistance, and allowed himself to be seated inside the messy office, obviously the captain's quarters, behind one of the map-covered tables.   
  
The first mate excused himself with a bow, "I'll see to it that Captain Troe an' Maji are here within a few minutes. 'Scuse me."  
  
Those few minutes seemed like hours to the prince, who remained seated, staring about the room. He took in everything around him, knowing fully that those that had found him were indeed the ones that he had been hunting, and everything that he saw led him to believe that those pirates were on the same mission as he was.  
  
Aldrien pulled the wooden chair up to one of the wooden tables and took one of the maps in his hands. The city of Calhoun had been encircled in red ink, and a small trail of the same ink led outward into the forests of the Other-Lands, branching and continuing on to the outermost edges of the huge parchment.   
  
He looked up when he heard footsteps outside the door, two sets of them, to be precise. One set was heavy, a signature of the human race, but the second set was light, almost inaudible. They were the steps of a Hylian, and this Aldrien knew well.  
  
"I see you've found the maps, Lord Aldrien..."   
  
The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the cleanest looking pirates that Aldrien had ever seen. Aside from the yellowed teeth, the man could easily have passed for a low class noble in the least. But it was the one that stood behind him that startled him the most.  
  
Aldrien rose and took a step toward the door as the captain and his guest stepped into the room, but stopped short when the captain spoke again.  
  
"My Lord, Aldrien of the House of Royals, this be Link'maji... A Hylian, jest like yerself. I," he directed the younger Hylian's attention toward himself, "be Cap'n Troe of the Kriashase. I'm certain you'll find that there be only honorable men aboard this ship. So honorable, in fact, that they agreed to save your miserable life."  
  
"How dare you speak to me like I am some sort of peasant... It was my mission by Lord Kimmendell to arrest the very men aboard this ship, and I will follow through with my..."  
  
"I am sorry, My Lord..."  
  
Aldrien looked to the Hylian opposite him that had interrupted him, and stepped back. Link looked up for the first time since he had entered the room, and stared coldly into the young elf's eyes, sending a shiver down Aldrien's spine as nothing had before.  
  
"But it was upon my orders that Troe saved you. It was my sympathy that saved your cold life, and therefore you will repay me as I see fit. You are still young, and in my eyes that youth means that you are still immature in all aspects of your life. It has been brought to my attention that you are extremely selfish, you care nothing for the lives of others and do not see enough worth in your own life to change yourself for the better. It is for that reason that on pain of death, you will be my subordinate until I fulfill my mission–one of greater import than yours. Is this understood?"  
  
Aldrien narrowed his cerulean eyes at the elf and rested his wrists on the hilts of his blades, "If you prove that you are indeed worthy of the title of my superior, then, and only then, will I agree with you."  
  
"And if I do not?" Link replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  
  
"Then you and the crew of this vessel will be under arrest in the name of Hyrule's Lord, Kimmendell, and I will be on my way to completing my mission. Do we have an accord?"  
  
"We do." 


	8. The First Battle

Sorry guys, this chapter is like--UBER short, though necessary. I really wanted to devote a chapter just to writing a fight scene, and I figure that this is a key moment in the story--well at least to me it is. I hope you like it, I enjoyed writing it (as I do with all of my fight scenes).  
  
R&R I'll have a new chapter up shortly, I'm on a roll tonight   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own zelda or anything like that...  
  
Chapter Eight: The First Battle  
  
The crew had gathered on the deck of the great schooner known as the Kriashase, where they had heard a fight was to take place. Link was standing in the center of the circle of crewmen, his broadsword strapped to his back, shield atop it, with five small pouches around his belt. It was the first time that the crew had seen him with his full armament on him, and they were all astounded at the way it all fit perfectly onto his body, each pouch and weapon having its own place. Aldrien was standing outside of the circle, staring intently at his target, thumbing the hilts of his twin long knives that were strapped to his hips. Two pouches were strapped to his sword-belt, one of them empty, the other acting as a wallet.  
  
Aldrien stepped into the circle, assuming a posture as offensive as defensive, and pulled his knives from their sheathes. Link drew his broadsword and shield, and nodded his readiness, waiting for the assassin to make his move.  
  
It took but a fraction of a second for the fight to spring into motion, blades whirring and spinning, clashing together with such force that the crewmen stepped back. And for the first few moments, neither elf seemed to have the offense, for no openings appeared, and no defenses fell even for a moment.   
  
The two elves, however, knew much more about the battle than did the crew. Link stared hard at his opponent, watching for the opening that would guarantee his victory, waiting for the famed assassin to choke. He knew that it would come, and he knew that he would find it. After all, the years of fighting demons and monsters both of Ganondorf and not would have to prove to some benefit.   
  
But he was pulled back to reality when Aldrien kicked low, a sweeping motion that Link was barely able to jump over. The left of the two blades cut a high arc over Aldrien's head, and the right jabbed to the midsection, but Link's own sword and shield halted the knives before they were able to do their damage. Link grinned for a moment and flung his arms out wide with all of his strength, throwing Aldrien's arms in opposite directions with such force that the prince faltered. The opening had appeared, and Link took advantage, quickly bringing his broadsword to the front in a sweeping horizontal arc, and readying himself for contact.  
  
But that contact never came.  
  
Aldrien threw himself backward into a roll before the strike could ever make contact, tucking his head to his chest, and came up with a hop. He launched himself forward in a daring rush, right blade extended, left out wide, ready to come across in a devastating sweep. It was a reckless move by Link's standards, and provided another opening.  
  
The elder Hylian ducked below the left blade and launched his shield into the right, turning as Aldrien passed. He threw his feet out, sending Aldrien sprawling onto his stomach, and pinned him squarely, broadsword held to the back of the insulted assassin's neck.  
  
"The fight is mine. You shall act as my subordinate and student for the duration of my quest or until I personally give you leave, is that understood?"  
  
Aldrien threw himself up, knocking Link away. He gathered his blades and sheathed them, then stormed down the stairs to his quarters with little more than a disapproving glare. 


End file.
